I'll be there-English Version
by Luckias
Summary: Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's what Tony liked to think. His life was far from perfect, but he preferred to imagine that all the adventures he had lived had helped to prepare him to any single situation. Apparently, he was wrong. Peter Parker was the perfect example.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm so sorry, I just saw there was a huge problem, there wasn't any space between the words... I hope it looks better now!**

 **Hey there! I'm happy to present you my first fanfiction, which focuses on the father / son relationship that Tony and Peter share, because I'm in love with the world of Marvel Cinematic Universe and I've been dreaming for a long time to write about them.**

 **This story also exists in French, which in the version I'll update first considering that it it my native language ;)**

 **Please tell me if you spot any mistake! I do not own any of Marvel's characters.**

 **Enjoy!**

-000-

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's what Tony liked to think. He had inherited the intellectual abilities of his father, who had founded the family reputation. He had been in the best schools that ever existed, even if he had not learned much, and had never lacked anything, if not a little more love from his father. Iron Man had also proved himself, and the armor gave him an irreplaceable sense of freedom, giving him especially a source of occupation and comfort when nightmares began to become too recurrent or the problems that were now part of his daily life got a bit too bulky. Well, of course, there were the press eagerly waiting for any mistake, the (often clumsy) attempts of kidnapping or murder, betrayals, disappointments, in short all the disadvantages brought by celebrity and the super-hero status. There had been Afghanistan, Obadiah, Hammer, Mandarin, Ultron, Sokovia, Ross, the war. He had thought he'd found friends, a family, and then lost them because he was unable to maintain healthy relationships with those around him; he couldn't help but ruin everything. The life of a Stark was far from perfect. However, Tony preferred to think, mainly in an attempt to convince himself, that all these adventures had helped to prepare him to any single situation, and that he could, in any case, keep the control over what was happening. Apparently, he was wrong. He would never have thought of having to add "Taking care of a sick teenager" to his list of skills.

The evening had begun normally, though. As every Friday, at the end of the afternoon, Peter Parker had to join him at the compound that used to be the Avengers' base, and in which Tony was living since their disbandment. It was May Parker who had suggested (or rather imposed) this weekly appointment after having discovered her nephew's extracurricular activity (seriously, that kid was really awful at keeping secrets). He was supposed to train him, improve his suit and teach him the hazards of a super-hero life. Peter was certainly not a novice anymore, but he didn't have solid basics yet, and anyway Tony would have never dared to protest his aunt's decision. That woman could be scary.

The boy had arrived around five with Happy, and the billionaire had assimilated his shiny eyes and unusual silence to the excitation and infatuation that Peter was feeling during his visits. Favoring exercise to theory, Tony preferred to take his protégé to the training room, in which they sometimes locked themselves for hours, losing track of time because of the trials they invented and challenges they threw at each other (even if Peter was almost always the winner). This time was no exception, and Tony moved towards the gym with a playfulness he would have denied if someone had pointed it to him. This room was vast, even bigger than the Parker's apartment, and even had a bathroom, a kitchen and a rest area, furnished with fancy chairs and sofas.

It was after several minutes of training that he understood something was wrong. Despite the fact that Peter was capering, and that he still jumped as high and ran as fast as usual, he was winding much more quickly, and looked quite pale. After running on a treadmill adapted to his enhanced abilities, the young man was now lifting weights of several dozen pounds, something he could normally do without any difficulty.

"Is everything alright, Underoos?" he asked. "You look like you're getting tired."

"I'm fine, Mister Stark! I.. I think I have a stitch. By the way, did you… did you change the weights? Just asking. They seem… they seem heavier."

Despite his answer, the teenager was panting, and his attempt to deflect the conversation was everything but subtle. They kept on practicing for a few minutes, until the moment Peter, drenched in sweat, faltered when he tried to get up. Tony rolled his eyes, mentally sighing at the boy's inability to lie, and stated:

"Let's take a fifteen minutes break. Go sit on the sofa there, I'll go take something to drink. Non-negotiable," he added when he saw Peter opening his mouth to protest.

He obeyed, nodding softly, and let himself fall on the cushions with relief. He closed his eyes, and Tony took this opportunity to go to the kitchen take two cold water bottles from the fridge. He came back not even a minute later, but the boy was nearly sleeping. When his mentor sat next to him, he opened his hazel eyes, which had a strange sparkle, and blinked a few times, looking at him in confusion. He apparently hadn't heard him. He accepted with a slightly shaking hand the water bottle he was offered.

"Hey," he croaked weakly, and gulped some water.

"Hey yourself, kid," the mechanic retorted. "What's the matter? Even a ghost would look better than you."

"Really, Mister Stark, I'm fine. I probably just caught a cold, and now that the adrenaline rush is gone, I'm feeling sleepy.

"In that case, why didn't you stay at home? I doubt that your aunt would have let you come here knowing your condition."

"I was feeling better earlier," Peter replied, shrugging. "And I didn't want to miss the training session."

"Ah, right, because fainting is a part of your training, my bad," the inventor taunted.

He didn't get an answer but felt quite satisfied when he saw his mentee blushing, before frowning as he remembered that it wasn't probably only because of embarrassment.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y? Can you give me his vitals?" Tony asked.

"Of course, Sir," the artificial intelligence answered smoothly. "It would appear that Mister Parker suffers from mild tachycardia, and his body temperature now rises to 100.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Shivers and headaches can also be expected. Theses symptoms correspond to the flu. Would you like me to call a doctor?

Peter looked as bewildered as Tony when they learnt about his condition.

"But I didn't feel feverish this morning..." he mumbled.

"What would you advise us? Maybe we can cope on our own."

"It would be preferable to rest and drink regularly. You should also call a doctor, so they can confirm the symptoms and optimize the healing. Medicinal drugs will have an extremely little effet on your body because of your enhanced metabolism. Please don't ingest anything before receiving a professional's opinion, Mister Parker.

"Got it, F.R.I," the patient agreed with a raspy voice.

"Is someone free right now?" demanded the billionaire. A trustworthy doctor who could keep quiet about Peter?

"Doctor Helen Cho is currently in the compound and affirmed that she could come here as soon as needed."

"Perfect. Ask her to come."

"All right, Sir."

Meanwhile, Tony felt lost. What was he supposed to do while waiting for Cho? Should he make Peter lay down? Prevent him from sleeping? Make him eat? He glanced toward him, and saw that he seemed uncomfortable. He got the feeling that he knew why.

"Helen Cho is an incredible scientific and physician," he explained, trying to appease the boy. "She healed the Avengers several times, so I think that a case of flu, even concerning a spider-kid, won't surprise her that much. Moreover, she's already aware of your powers, and I trust her. You can trust her too. It's that simple, really."

And everybody knew that, nowadays, the only people he entirely trust could be counted on his fingers. Peter blushed even more, this time clearly feeling self-conscious. He coughed a bit and blurted:

"I know, Mister Stark, but… I'm sorry for bothering you with that, alright? I mean, it's stupid because I should be-"

"Let me stop you immediately, Peter, because your fever is probably throwing you off. Who doesn't ever get sick? Everybody does. I'm sure that even Captain America can get sick. Well, actually I have no idea, with this serum of his, but you know what I mean. There's nothing stupid."

"But we were supposed to train!" Peter cried. "That's what May imposed so that I could keep being Spider-Man during my spare time! And I don't have any-"

"We still can do another form of exercise. There aren't only looks, after all," Tony reminded with a wink as he tapped lightly his temple.

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn't stop himself from snorting, which quickly transformed in a dry cough. He was about to add something when a door behind them opened, and the two super-heroes turned to see Helen Cho entering the gym. She smiled kindly.

"Hi, Stark," she saluted. "It seems that I got a new patient, right?"

She turned to the teenager, who waved shyly at her, and added:

"Let's see, Peter, isn't it? Could you describe me how you feel? F.R.I.D.A.Y already told me, but I'd like to hear it again.

"Uh, listen, that's really kind of you, but I don't have any money..." Peter whispered, aghast.

The doctor stayed silent for a few seconds, blinking rapidly as if to try to clear out the sudden confusion she was feeling, and glanced at Tony, who, flabbergasted, was having a hard time trying to keep a straight face. He chuckled, and once he was certain his voice wouldn't betray his surge to cackle, he placed his hand on Peter's shoulder and looked him in the eye:

"Tell me, you didn't believe I would ask you to pay for this consultation, did you? Cho's my employee. She's paid, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Very well paid," beamed Helen. "Feeling better?"

"Ye-yes", he stammered. "Sorry."

His face had reddened again, and this was beginning to get quite common. He coughed heavily, eyed his mentor and explained hoarsely:

"Actually, this morning I was feeling good, I just had a runny nose and a sore throat. It got worse during school. Now I have a headache, but not too important, and my body aches." He cleared his throat. "And I cough."

"Are you hot? Cold? Does something else hurt?" Tony inquired, worried.

"Tony," the doctor scolded gently.

"Sorry. You're the pro. I'll be quiet."

Peter decided to intervene and explained that, no, nothing else hurt, and that he was toggling between being hot and cold. Helen palpated his throat near his tonsils, to detect a potential infection, took his pulse and temperature, listened to his breathing and asked him to cough. After a few minutes, she stowed away her tools and reported:

"F.R.I.D.A.Y was right, it is indeed a case of flu. Not that this is surprising in itself" she added with a smirk for Tony before he replied snarkily, knowing he would said something about his robot obviously being one of the best.

The billionaire shrugged, grinning, and asked:

"So, what do we do? Is there any medicine to help him feel better?"

"Considering Peter's metabolism, nothing would be strong enough to be effective," Cho explained. "A flu will last for a few days at the most, so the best thing to do would be to rest a lot, and drink and eat often in order to gain strength. Peter, if you don't feel hungry, chicken broth will be enough."

"Thank you, Helen," Tony sighed.

"You're welcome, Stark. I need to leave, I still have work to do, but don't hesitate to call me if you need my help."

"Thanks, ma'am," Peter articulated softly.

He got a warm smile and the doctor left the gym. A comfortable silence fell in the room, until the two super-heroes suddenly exchanged a worried glance as they remembered a very important detail.

May.

"She going to freak out if she sees me like this," said the teenager, even though Tony was already aware of that.

"I know. We could call her to tell her the truth and explain that it would be for the best if you stayed here to sleep this night. Or the whole week-end.

"I would… sleep here?"

"Of course, kid. You really thought that it would be a good idea for you to get home in your state? F.R.I.D.A.Y and Helen already told you, no medicine will be efficient, and if your condition worsen you'll be better taken care of here.

"Mister Stark, you know, you really don't have to do all of this for me! I mean, I've already been ill before, and, of course May was worried! But we always managed to get by and-" Peter stopped to cough. "And I'm sure I'll be fine!"

His voice was broken, his forehead sweaty, his eyes were still shining (but now Tony knew it was because of the fever) and he was panting even though he was only talking for a few seconds. The mechanic rose a dubious eyebrow.

"You're saying that you've already been sick after getting your powers?"

"No," confessed the kid, turning red.

"Then you'll spend the night at the compound. I'll call your aunt."

Peter couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Good luck to talk her into letting me stay here, then."

"Don't question my persuasiveness, kiddo."

"I didn't say anything of the sort, Mister Stark."

"Could it be sarcasm? Be careful, Peter, I could replace the next training session by a very intensive class about road legislation. Who knows, Spider-Man could discover himself a passion in road safety. It's really important, after all.

"Very funny, Mister Stark," the teenager pouted, but still showing a discreet smile. "Hilarious."

"I know, right? That's one of my best assets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a quite important mission to accomplish. Try to sleep, alright?"

"Okay."

Tony stood up from the sofa, and headed slowly towards the exit, giving Peter a last peek before getting out of the room, and gently closed the door after seeing that his protégé was now lying down and had closed his eyes.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y," the inventor murmured, "Let me know if Peter's condition changes in any way."

"Understood, Sir."

He walked away from the gym, soon ending up in one of the spacious living rooms of the compound, and sat down in a chair while getting his mobile phone from his pocket. He sighed as he stared for a long time at May Parker's name and phone number.

He prayed that she would be in a good mood and tapped on the "Call" button.

000

About twenty minutes later, as Tony was getting back to the gym where he had left Peter, he was still quite dumbfounded at how easy it had been to convince the young man's aunt to let him sleep at the compound. Of course, during the first two minutes of the conversation, she had freaked out, fearing the worst, but had easily calmed down and had let Tony explain himself; it wasn't like the poor woman often received a phone call from Stark himself.

He had to admit that, for once, the fact that she knew about Peter's abilities had made everything easier. She had immediately understood that, without the possibility of using any medicine, Peter could heal way better at the compound, surrounded by the best staff that could ever exist. That's why she accepted Peter spending the week-end with him, however imposing two conditions (and, obviously, she hadn't given way to any negotiation; the contrary would have surprised Tony): Peter and himself would had to give her news at least three times a day, and would see her on the Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon. He had agreed easily, knowing that any form of protestation would have backfired on him.

The forty-year-old opened the door with precaution, trying not to make any sound. He got closer to the sofa, to discover the teenager asleep, huddled up on himself and beads of sweats rolling down his face. He was breathing loudly, unknowing that his mentor had returned.

"Mister Parker's body temperature rose to 101.5 degrees Fahrenheit while you were speaking with Mrs Parker," announced quietly the artificial intelligence who had anticipated its creator's question. He bit back a sigh, not wanting to take the risk of waking Peter up, and moved away from him once again.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" He asked meekly once he had put several meters of distance between himself and the boy. "What should I do? Wake him up?"

"I believe it would be best to let him sleep, Sir. You can however bring him a blanket and a pillow. You can find some in cupboards, in the living room located at the north-west of the compound. Do you want me to make someone bring these to you?"

"I'll do it myself. Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"You're welcome, Sir." The robotic voice answered fondly.

Tony shook his head, snorting and wondering since when his artificial intelligence was that expressive, and let himself be guided to the desired cupboards. He took two blankets and a pillow that he stuck with difficulty under his arms, and got back to his patient's side. The latter hadn't moved a bit, so the mechanic took this opportunity to cover the teenager gently with the two soft and fluffy blankets, and slid with prudence the pillow under his head. Peter didn't open his eyes, but a blissful sigh escaped from his lips. He shifted, hugging one of the blanket as if it was a stuffed toy.

At this sight, a strange but pleasant feeling appeared in Tony's stomach. Without really understanding why, he couldn't stop himself from to place his hand on the kid's forehead. He kneeling near him, running tenderly his fingers through the younger's brown curls, and wiped the sweat off his face, frowning as he felt the unusual heat emanating from the skin.

Shaking his head, he stood up and let himself fall in a chair next to the boy.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, let me know if he wakes up or if his condition worsen."

"Understood."

He tried to work on his phone for a while before giving up the idea, preferring to turn his attention to the sleeping silhouette, and buried under the thick blankets. He turned his phone off, focusing on the now regular breaths escaping from the sheets and attempted to count them.

He never made it to fifty.

000

"Mister Parker is beginning to show signs of awakening, Sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced softly.

Tony abruptly opened his eyes. The room was plunged in darkness, Peter was still lying on the sofa and the only noises that could be heard were the ones made by their breathing.

"I fell asleep?"

"Indeed, Sir," the artificial intelligence confirmed.

He blinked several times, trying to clear his mind. That was a first. Not only he was falling asleep whereas he was supposed to take care of Peter, but moreover he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt that rested after sleeping. No nightmare had come to haunt him.

"What time is it?" Tony asked, in a still sleepy voice.

Maybe he would have to change his furniture so he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Or maybe he should rather replace his bed by this armchair, who apparently had also the same effect than a dream-catcher.

"It is currently nine and thirty-six in the evening. Your nap lasted for about four hours and appeared to be quite beneficial for you, Sir." F.R.I.D.A.Y declared in an amused tone.

He rolled his eyes, and looked at Peter, who was indeed beginning to move more. His eyes opened slowly, still sleepy, and glanced at his mentor.

"M'ster Stark?" he enunciated with difficulty.

"How are you feeling? You slept for about four hours."

He willingly forgot to specify that he had also fell asleep. The teenager could have a fever, he was still able to imagine that the forty-year-old was finding him boring and had dozed off. Peter made a grimace.

"I've been better. I'm hot," he said.

"It's probably because of your fever, so stay covered," Tony calmly ordered as he brushed his fingers against the teen's forehead.

He didn't have to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to know that his fever had once more gotten up. He sighed in discontentment.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, can't we give him for his fever? It's still rising!"

"Doctor Cho was sure about this, Sir. Nothing would be efficient."

"I'm sorry," the patient mumbled, his voice as raspy as earlier.

He sounded sheepish, as if he believed himself to be guilty of the situation he was currently in, and thought he was constraining Tony to take care of him. The latter rose an eyebrow.

"Can ask you why? I thought we already had this little discussion."

"My enhanced body makes everything harder and… and I'm wasting your time when you probably have a lot of really important things to do, because..." He stopped to cough. "Because you're always super busy, and you should be working or resting, because I'm sure you don't relax often, and instead, you're taking care of a sick teenager that isn't even able to watch out for himself, because even before the spider bite it was May who had to watch me when I wasn't feeling well and-

"Breathe, kid," Tony chided, grinning. "You're fifteen, and-"

"Sixteen," Peter weakly protested.

"Sixteen so it's normal that people still take care of you when you're sick, don't you think? And I'm certain that I already told you that everyone had the right to fall ill once in a while. Also, at his hour, I'm never sleeping, but I'm rather tinkering in my workshop, and, you know, it changes from my daily routine. I hate when my life is too predictable."

"But-"

"No buts."

"Mister Stark, I-"

"I said no. Do you want me to feed you like we feed young children? I can even make plane noises if you'd like me to."

Peter lowered his head with a grimace, biting back his protestations and blushing furiously.

"That's what I thought," the mechanic snickered. "F.R.I.D.A.Y? Is there anything suitable for Peter to eat in the fridge?"

"I asked someone to bring chicken broth while Mister Parker was resting," the robot answered easily who, for its creator's greatest pleasure, didn't mention that Tony had also slept a bit. "You just have to warm it up in the microwave."

"Perfect. Peter, stay down, I'll be right back.

He got up and stretched, his muscles still stiff form the unexpected nap; he was getting to old to sleep comfortably in an armchair or a sofa. The white locks that scattered his hair were a constant reminder, even if most of them were caused by the stress induced by everything concerning his super-hero job.

He opened the fridge, and noticed a tightly closed bowl of broth, as well as some sandwiches and a few water bottles that weren't there four hours ago.

"I also asked for something to eat for you too, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y intervened coolly.

"I see. Are some of the sandwiches also for Peter?"

"Yes, but Mister Parker may not feel hungry. He shouldn't force himself to eat, however he should be able to ingest the broth easily without getting nausea.

"Hum."

He took a water bottle and two sandwiches that he posed on a table behind him, then reached for the broth, placing it in the microwave. He closed it, and touched the different buttons with his fingertip, unsure of what settings he had to choose. If he didn't make the soup warm for long enough or at a too low temperature, it would remain cold, and knowing himself he would end up making the broth boiling hot. He was a mechanic, not a cook! He didn't mind burning his tongue anymore, he had done it enough times when he drank coffee to be used to it; but he didn't want to do the same to the kid silently waiting for him.

"One minute at the maximal power should be enough to warm the broth up to an ideal temperature," commented F.R.I.D.A.Y once again, as if it was having fun watching the inventor struggling with basic tasks.

"You're a genius, F.R.I." Tony answered, following the instructions he had just received.

"Glad to be able to help you, Sir."

His lips twitched, betraying the shadow of a smile, and waited for the familiar "ding!" to pick the bowl and the victuals on the table, then came back to Peter. He had the nagging impression that he had forgot something, but couldn't manage to remember what. He decided to put this thought aside for a bit.

"Are you hungry?"

But the young man shook his head, looking sorry.

"I don't think I'll be able to swallow anything right now, Mister Stark, or I'll probably throw up. I'm sorry."

"You have to eat something, kid. And, I beg of you, stop apologizing. At least, try to drink the broth.

"Sor- I mean, alright. I'll try."

"Good."

Tony offered him the bowl, and sat in the chair he had fell asleep earlier, willing not to fall in the same strap twice. Then he remembered what he had forgotten.

"A spoon," he grunted, "that's right."

He stood up yet again, and gazed at Peter.

"Or maybe you'd like a straw?"

"I'm pretty okay with everything, sir," the boy alleged with a smile that illuminated his pale and sweaty face, "thank you."

He dashed back to the kitchen and gave him a spoon, then settled in the armchair, a groan escaping his mouth. He devoured a sandwich, slightly surprised that he hadn't been aware to be that hungry before, and verified that Peter was managing to drink the hot liquid without any problem. He seemed to be taking his sweet time, gulping gradually as if fearing that his stomach wouldn't be able to bear the beverage.

"Does it feel good?" Tony asked him.

The teen nodded, and the billionaire felt a churning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he mused over the fact that it was probably the first time Peter was so quiet with him. He was beginning to miss his babbling. The sick boy reached for the coffee table near the sofa and put his now empty bowl down. He smiled.

"Thank you, I feel better now," he affirmed, visibly grateful but not really being convincing.

"You're welcome, kid," replied Tony with a smirk, "But you should rather thank F.R.I.D.A.Y, I almost didn't do anything."

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y!"

"At your service, Mister Parker. Could I suggest you a shower?"

"She's right," the mechanic agreed, "You'll feel better after a nice shower, and it'll be more pleasant to sleep."

"Are you sure you don't mind? Alright, alright," he added precipitately as he spotted his hero rolling his eyes, "I'll take one, thank you."

He rose up carefully, Tony ready to jump and steady him if he was to fall, and got close to the bathroom, before looking expectantly at him and opening his mouth to speak. The forty-year-old grinned, and pulled the rug from under him cheekily.

"There are spare clothes, towels and soap in the cupboard inside," he said.

"Thanks," Peter croaked, embarrassed.

He closed the bathroom door, and Tony let a sigh he wasn't aware of until now slip from his mouth. He steadied himself against the wall, alert and listening to every noise he could hear. He trusted F.R.I.D.A.Y to tell him if there was a problem but liked to reassure himself that his patient wouldn't be clumsy enough to hurt himself because of his condition… Or because of his usual bad luck. He heard water flowing during a few minutes, and then everything was silent for a while. The mechanic was now expecting the teenager to come out of the bathroom at any moment by now, but he suddenly heard a yelp, followed by a thud.

His heart pounding, he rushed inside, and saw Peter sitting down on the bare floor, apparently a little groggy.

"I slipped on the floor," he explained.

That spider-kid was going to be the death of him.

000

"What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Oh."

"As you say."

"Usually..." Peter trailed, hesitating to continue, "I'm patrolling at this hour."

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you wander off in the streets this evening?"

"No, no, but… what if someone needed help? What if something happened? That would be my fault."

Tony kept silent for a while, staring weirdly at this protégé, who quickly grew uncomfortable and swiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I-I'm s-sorry, forget it, Mister Stark," he stammered, blushing.

The inventor tilted his head and felt an unusual but sincere smile stretch on his face, which seemed to unsettled the kid, though it didn't appear to displease him.

"And would you feel better," Tony suddenly blurted, "if I were to send my armor outside for a patrol to see if everything's alright?"

He didn't hear an answer, but Peter's eyes widened comically and a large smile appeared; he nodded to accept the mechanic's proposition so frantically that the latter got scared for several seconds that he would hurt himself.

"That would be… That would be awesome, Mister Stark!" He cried happily. "Thank you, thank you so much! You won't regret it."

"I certainly hope so," retorted the self-proclaimed philanthropist with a wink. "Let's calm down and go to sleep, okay? Do you want me to prepare a room for you? There are many of them at our disposition. I don't want you to drop from exhaustion in front of your aunt, she would kill me and you know it."

Peter snorted, probably imagining the scene, but shook his head and lied down on the sofa, where he had slept earlier. He tugged his blankets up to his neck, and let his head rest on the soft pillow.

"I like this sofa. It's really comfy, even more than my own bed, you know. You don't need to prepare a room just for me, I'll be fine here."

"When you're healed, remind be to buy you a new bed. And, alright for sleeping here tonight, but it's only because I don't want you to get up again and risk to hurt yourself. Tomorrow you'll sleep in a real bed, in a real bedroom."

"Okay, Mister Stark," Peter acknowledged, laughing. "You should rest too, or you'll also end up sick like me."

"Don't worry about me, Underoos, I can take care of myself," Tony reassured him fondly.

"Someone has to worry about you," the teenager mumbled, probably not aware that the older man was hearing him, "because I got the feeling that there isn't a lot of people that care about you, and they don't know what they're missing."

The same sensation he had felt when he had observed Peter sleeping came back, soft, pleasant and warming his heart. He took a deep breath, not managing to wipe out the blissful smile of his face.

"Good night, Mister Stark."

"Good night, Peter."

000

When May Parker arrived the next morning at the compound, she was surprised to be welcomed by an artificial intelligence with a very soft voice telling her that both Tony and Peter were sleeping deeply. She still asked to see them, and carved what she saw into her heart and her soul.

The billionaire had taken his chair as near as possible of Peter, and was dozing off, his hand resting on her nephew's hair. The latter was still pale and sweaty, but appeared to be sleeping peacefully. May requested F.R.I.D.A.Y to take a photo, and the robot complied happily.

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's what Tony liked to think. But having Peter Parker in his life was definitely a plus.

-000-

That's all for this first chapter! Did you like it?

I hope I didn't do too many mistakes, if you spot one please tell me! I'd be happy to improve my English even more.

The same goes for my writing! I'd love to see your advice receive constructive criticism!

See you soon for the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Heya! I just wanting to thank everyone before letting you read this chapter… I may or may not have cried tears of joy (I totally cried) when I saw all the follows/favorites the first chapter got, and the kind reviews made me squeal in happiness (yeah, I'm weird).**

 **So, thanks to Aparecium Inkwell, Cate126, FallenAngelWings, Fan02, G. .97, HelloShootingStar, JollyRosieMe, Marshmallow016, MaryPrayther, PhantomGirl1223, Sherizal, .Scifi, TheLastOfTheRealOnes (I understood that reference), Toa Aerrow, YoungPrinceLou, alyssajade, buystoomanybooks (you can never buy too many books, don't worry!), fluffyunicorn2, msScorpia, sloth-eyes, Autumn CanterNot, , Emptyfridges, Kaekoa, OniHika68, Rainy Spirit, am1906, lovegoa and signofthetimeshs for following and/or favoring this story!**

 **And mega-special thanks to Marshmallow016, Fan02 and for their lovely reviews!**

 **You guys are amazing! Enjoy ;)**

-000-

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's was Tony tried to remember when he was attempting to cheer himself up.

He had the feeling that, since a few days, he had fallen in a vicious circle. His little naps with Peter seemed to be now a distant memory, not being able anymore to close his eyes without seeing Yinsen's lifeless body, the gigantic and gloomy Chitauri spaceship in that suffocating void, or Captain America's shield, abandoned next to him as he thought he was going to freeze to death alone. He didn't know what could have triggered such frequent and violent nightmares.

Well, actually he did knew. He was just trying to forget it, for his sanity's sake.

No, it wasn't Ross. This clown could harass him and call him several times a day to require information on the rogue Avengers, he still stayed -for now- harmless.

No, it wasn't a problem with Stark Industries. Pepper was still in charge of his company, and she was doing wonderfully well. She deserved to be the chief executive officer so much more than him; sales were soaring, popularity was constantly growing, the competitors were no match for the industry, in short everything was alright.

What Tony was desperately trying to make fall into oblivion was the brief but nevertheless noticeable sight of a certain Steve Rogers he had in the street, about a week ago. Here. In New York.

He was roaming in a supermarket that day, in disguise and devouring a muffin, because he had felt the sudden urge to take a stroll in the fresh (yet polluted) air and walk a bit, when he had seen him. Steve had seen him, too. The sight of the two men in itself could have been comical, if it didn't held the tragic backstory that explained their current situation. They were, at this moment, facing each other, gaping and frozen in astonishment. They were both wearing, ironically, the same disguise: a big sweat-shirt with their hoodies over their heads, and ridiculously over-sized sunglasses. That was maybe why they had recognized each other so quickly. The two of them stood there, motionless and waiting for the other to make a move. Then Tony had breathed deeply, and had forced himself to wave at his former friend before turning his back to him to continue his random purchases. Some raspberries there, extra-strong glue here, and he had rushed back to the compound to lock himself in his workshop.

Steve Rogers was in New York. And he hadn't missed the fear and uncertainty that had crossed the rogue's face. If he was here, then it probably meant that the others were with him. James Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Scott Lang. Yes, he did know his name too, because he had made a point of learning more about the people whose life had been made unpleasant (and that was a euphemism) by his fault. This Lang had a daughter, and he was separated from her, because of him.

Everything was his fault.

Tony abruptly stood up from the stool he was tinkering on since the last few hours. His heartbeat was becoming erratic, and his respiration was so uneven that it was painful, blocked by the lump in his throat.

"Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y warned him, "you are showing the signs of an anxiety attack."

"Yeah, I noticed," the forty-year-old man answered in a sucked breath. "I'm going to take a shower."

He went to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in. With a sigh, he moved beneath the flow of freezing water, finally taking control of his still frenetic breathing again. He liked hot showers much better, but right now he needed to wake up. Admittedly, a low temperature tended to make the organism sleepy, but it reinvigorated his mind. He didn't want to rest. To avoid nightmares, he had simply stopped sleeping. It was everything but the good solution, he knew it. He drank coffee, tinkered in his workshop with loud music, ran regularly, took cold and hot showers, his main motivation being now to evade as much as possible an unwelcome sleep.

Unfortunately for him, Tony wasn't a superhuman. Every three, four days, he ended up falling of exhaustion, and then the few next hours that followed were awfully tedious. He was aware that dreams, or rather nightmares in his case, didn't last for several hours but only a couple of minutes, yet the perceived sensation was entirely different. He would finally wake up, shaking like a leaf and spluttering, and he would began once again to fight against his brain that required more sleep (he would always end up losing, anyway).

He shut down the tap, and the flowing water stopped. Tony sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, when he remembered that he hadn't slept for four days and was probably to collapse with fatigue once more.

He closed his eyes against his will not even an hour later, when he made the mistake to sit on a sofa for a minute while answering one of Pepper's message. Sleep took him right away.

000

"I'm so sorry, Tony." Steve said while his world was falling apart around him.

His parents weren't dead in a car accident, because of defective brakes.

They had been murdered.

He felt anger take control of his body, even more powerful than pain, burning and uncontainable, and he-

"Sir, I received an alert from Karen." A familiar, _reassuring_ voice intervened, a voice that wasn't supposed to belong to this scene.

Tony awoke with a start and instantly jumped on his feet, not wanting to fall asleep again, and blinked to chase the blurry memories out of his mind.

"What were you saying, F.R.I?" He asked.

"I received an alert from Karen, Mister Parker's artificial intelligence. It would appear he got harmed while he was stopping robbers."

He felt his heart stop for a moment and dread filled his stomach. He ordered:

"Give me his location, his vitals, and get my armor ready immediately."

"Mister Parker is currently near the intersection of the forty-first avenue and Parsons boulevard," he heard while feeling his suit surrounding his body in an almost comforting way. "He doesn't seem to be in immediate danger. According to Karen's report, he's suffering from dizziness, because of a blow to the head, and a cut to the left arm. The wound is still open and bleeding, but apparently didn't touch any vein or artery."

"So, he'll be fine, then," the billionaire mumbled, mainly to reassure himself.

"Yes, Sir. Peter will heal quickly, without any permanent damage. Karen simply wanted to warn you," F.R.I.D.A.Y explained softly, sensing its creator's distress.

And that Karen did well, Tony thought, slightly calmer. It was a good thing his machines were here, loyal (or almost always) and reliable. He propelled himself outside, towards the location given by Peter's suit. It was dark, and a full moon was lightning the sky up with a creamy white, quickly erased by the artificial lights of the city. He had to admit that it was a beautiful summer night, but he wasn't exactly able to concentrate on that detail right now.

He found Peter a short while after, having ordered his armor to fly at the maximal speed. The teenager was alone on a rooftop, still masked, and he watched his mentor land while holding his wounded arm.

"Hey, Mister Stark," he greeted, "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"What happened to you? I got an alert from your artificial intelligence, Karen, I think?"

Of course he know the name the kid had given his virtual baby-sitter, but he was hoping to make his protégé speak a bit more. The latter removed his mask with a grimace, and Tony observed that his right cheek was now colored with a dark red that would probably turn quickly turn to purple.

"It was really stupid, you know," Peter began with an embarrassed smile. "There was this robbery right down the road, in this grocery store, three men, two with knifes and one with a gun. What sort of gun, I had no idea, I don't know anything about weaponry. Maybe I should think about learning more about this, who knows? It may come to handy one day. Anyway, these guys just barge in and take a hostage, an old man that I had already met before and who's really nice -did I already tell you that he made me hot chocolate when I brought his cat back?- and start asking for wallets and mobile phones, so I-"

"Calm down, kid, calm down," Tony snickered, nevertheless reassured.

If the super-hero was still able to rant that much, then there wasn't really any reason to worry; and, he had to confess that he didn't find the young's babbling annoying… He found them refreshing, actually. He got closer to Peter, his armor retracting, to study the injury on his arm. The suit was teared, and stained with dark red, but when he gently moved the fabric he saw that the wound had already healed, only leaving a faint scar that would soon disappear too, thanks to the boy's enhanced healing abilities, who didn't move while letting the older man examine his arm. He cleared his throat, sheepish.

"Sorry, it must be the adrenaline, it makes me really talkative. Oh, and my arm only has a scratch, it'll heal fast. But I'm sorry for the suit."

"The suit isn't that important," the mechanic retorted seriously, "I prefer having you in one piece. Keep on talking, I want to know what happened. But don't forget to breathe, alright? It may be important."

"I'll keep that in mind." Peter affirmed, biting back a cheeky smile. "So when I took action, I wanted to concentrate on the one with the gun, and Karen had confirmed that it was the most dangerous one. I didn't encounter any problem with him, but the other two tried to harm the old man. I managed to stop one with my webs, but had to step between the second guy and the civil because I thought I wasn't going to have enough time. I took care of them easily enough, but still got a punch to the head and that wound. I didn't know if it was a good idea to call you, but anyway Karen did it by herself, and I'm a little scared of May's reaction when she'll see me so I'd rather like to postpone this moment as much as possible.

"And the robbers, they're…?"

"Nicely webbed up."

Spider-Man's smug tone didn't remain unnoticed to Tony, and he couldn't prevent himself from smiling fondly.

"Nice work, kid," he admitted, "but next time try to avoid any potentially dangerous object, alright?"

"Understood, Mister Stark!"

Peter looked overjoyed thanks to his hero's praise, but the latter suddenly remember his encounter of the past week, and, even if he felt bad for spoiling the mood, he forced himself to ask:

"Tell me, did you notice anything weird recently, during your interventions or your patrols?"

"Weird?" The teenager questioned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." The inventor hesitated, not wanting to reveal his face-to-face with Steve Rogers. "Things that aren't usual. Strange people, weird things occurring, you see what I mean."

The kid stayed silent for a couple of seconds, looking thoughtful. But he shook his head negatively before groaning, likely because of his throbbing head and dizziness.

"I don't think so," he answered truthfully, "I mean, I didn't see anything like that, everything seemed pretty normal to me. Why are you asking?"

Tony decided to evade the question, determined to make Peter understand him.

"If you see, if you hear, if you find anything, and I'm saying anything, that isn't normal, I want you to tell me, understood? Whatever I'm doing, wherever I am, whenever it is, even if you're not sure of yourself, call me. Promise me."

Peter didn't try to insist to learn more details about what was upsetting his mentor. Instead, he settled for staring at the older man, tilting his head, which made him look even younger than he already was.

"Okay," he finally said. "I promise."

Tony wasn't afraid of Captain America or his allies. He was afraid of the bad news they could be bringing.

"Hey, Mister Stark, do you think May'll kill me if she sees my bruise and my suit?"

The forty-year-old blinked, amused by the not-so-subtle attempt to change to steer the conversation away, and smiled, feeling affection swirling in his chest.

"The suit shouldn't be a problem, I can repair it easily. It'll be as good as new in a short lapse of time. But, as for your bruise… Hum, what flowers would you like me to bring to your funeral?"

000

Two weeks later, at approximately six in the evening, Tony was working on a new prototype of ventilation for the Iron Man suit. He had to admit that he was exhausted; he was still sleeping as little and as bad as bad as before. That's why he had decided to upgrade as much as possible his personal and protective cocoon, that he wanted to be able to make entirely hermetic on his command. But, for goodness' sake, he was so sleepy!

He was testing the prototype when he got a call from a very-not-dead Peter Parker. As usual, his heart began beating furiously, fearing that something had happened to the boy, but he shut down his imagination, apparently way too overflowing since the last months, and picked up the call.

"Good afternoon, Mister Stark!" The adolescent exclaimed loudly from the other side of the phone line. "No, it should rather be 'good evening' actually. It's great to be able to speak to you. Could I join you to the compound?"

"It's not that I don't appreciate your company, kid, but… Is there a special reason for this?"

"Remember when you asked me to tell you if I were to encounter something weird? I'd like to explain to you face-to-face, if you don't mind."

"… I'm sending Happy to pick you up immediately."

Half an hour later, the young man barged in the living room Tony was currently in, followed by Happy. The billionaire thanked his old friend, who greeted him with a wave of the and a grin before leaving. He made sure to breathe deeply and turned to Peter. The two of them sat up side to side in a sofa.

"Tell me everything," he ordered.

"It may be a mistake, because honestly it lasted like only for a second and I was swinging in the air during my patrol and- sorry, I'm ranting again. I think I saw Captain America and Black Widow. Not in their signature suits, okay, but dressed up like civilians. I'm almost a hundred percent sure it was them."

"How did you know it was them?"

"Actually, I mainly recognized Mister Rogers. By the way, I'm wondering how the other people didn't recognize him. He was sitting at a café terrace, so, obviously, I also looked at the person sitting and chatting with him. I think it was Mrs Romanoff."

Tony sighed, and took his head between his hands, massaging his temples as if to chase an oncoming headache. He glanced at his protégé, who was looking at him anxiously.

"Thank you," the inventor said to him as he posed his hand on the teen's shoulder. "Thank you for telling me."

"I promised," Peter answered, shrugging.

"Precisely. You kept your promise. Thank you for that."

The youngest bit his lip, uncomfortable, and seemed to be constantly shifting on the sofa. He briefly lowered his eyes before staring at his mentor.

"Are you going to arrest them?" He asked suddenly.

The forty-year-old man blinked, not instantly understanding the question. Then he did, and pure horror appeared on his face.

"No no no, no, I don't want to- I don't want to arrest them," he stammered uncharacteristically, before clearing his throat in an attempt to regain control of his voice. "It was never my intention. It's just that.. Listen, don't tell anybody what I'm about to tell you, alright?"

"I promise," Peter nodded.

"Not even your aunt."

"Not even my aunt," the boy parroted, trying to reassure the mechanic.

"I saw Captain America like, what, a month ago? He was shopping, like me, and our eyes met. I was thinking that maybe the other rogues were also with him, and I got worried."

"You were wondering that they were doing in New York."

"Exactly."

"So you asked me to keep an eye on what was happening in the streets."

"Yes."

"Because you were worried."

"What are you getting at, kid?"

But the teenager didn't answer right away. Instead, a huge smile appeared on his face and he breathed deeply, visibly more relaxed than a few minutes ago. He revealed:

"I was afraid you wanted to arrest them. I mean, I know that's what we're supposed to do, and, as a super-hero, I should want to stop them but… They, you saved us together. They made mistakes, but the Avengers are heroes, not criminals. And these Accords can really be unfair."

Tony tried with all his strength not to look too surprised. He didn't know what was astonishing him the most: the fact that Peter found the Accords unfair (not that he was wrong about that), or the fact that he thought the other Avengers had made mistakes without also accusing him. He shook his head, forcing a grin, and retorted:

"Oh, because you're considering yourself as a super-hero? When you still need a baby-sitter?"

"Wha-what?! But… but I don't have a baby-sitter, Mister Stark, and I absolutely don't need one!" Peter exclaimed, embarrassed and slightly outraged.

"What do you think I created Karen for, then?"

Oh, he could have a little fun, after all. He definitely wasn't feeling sleepy anymore, and loved to get on his intern's nerves. He snorted as he observed Peter stuttering, as red as a beet, while trying to explain himself.

"Karen helps me, I'll give you that, but she isn't my baby-sitter! By the way, if Ned hadn't hacked into the Baby-Wheels protocol, she wouldn't be there today, you know! You-" he stopped talking, seeing his mentor cracking up with laughter. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

What he liked the best, actually, was the fact that, in spite of the admiration Peter had for the Avengers, even for the rogue ones, the boy had trusted him and kept his promise.

Tony frowned. He was beginning to really get attached to the kid, and now it was too late to go back. He kept listening to his protégé's babbling, amused.

"What do you think they're doing in New York, Mister Stark?"

"I have no idea. And I don't think I want to know."

"Which means you're going to investigate, right?"

"Obviously."

"So… can I call you Inspector Gadget?"

"Don't even think about it."

That kid wasn't a random kid. It was Peter, and, for him, Tony was ready to make an effort for the Avengers.

000

His whole surroundings changed from an extreme to another. In a matter of seconds (ha, it wasn't like there was matter around him anymore, except for his armor, but even in his situation he still found a way to make a stupid joke), light was replaced by darkness, the deafening noise in his ears by the most absolute silence, and if a couple of seconds ago he was in a place he was familiar with, now he was lost in a foreign, and hostile environment. And the spaceship, enormous and grim, seemed to be floating in front of him, while these snakes-like monsters were coming and going around his powerless body.

He let the missile go. Everything caught fire, and he began to fall, fall, fall...

Tony jumped out of his bed, panting loudly. He was suffocating, he couldn't breathe, his lungs were burning, his vision blurred by the tears flooding his face and-

"Breathe deeply and take your pulse, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y intervened, a true wall of calm and serenity.

He did his best to obey, and placed two fingers in the crook of his neck to feel the erratic beating of his distraught heart. It had the effect of an anchor, an anchor that maintained him to reality, held him on firm ground. He stayed several minutes in this position, which wasn't enough to calm him completely but at least let him regain control of his body.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y. I'm going to the workshop," he announced.

The artificial intelligence didn't answer, but when he arrived to his favorite place, the lights were already on, and he was welcomed by a joyful Dum-E, which made him smile despite himself.

"Hey, you" the mechanic mumbled fondly to the robot.

The machine chirped happily. Tony stretched, wondering what he could work on.

"What time is it?"

"It is currently eleven and forty-six in the night, Sir."

"I see. Any suggestion?"

"You could re-caliber the weights of the two gauntlets. During your last utilisation of the Iron Man armor, you complained that, because of an upgrade of the right propeller, this gauntlet were lighter than the other, which unbalanced you."

"Just say that I'm always complaining," the forty-year-old joked.

"It wasn't my intention, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y answered seriously.

He rolled his eyes, dismantled the metallic arms of his suit and began to work. It was actually quite simple, because he only had to add a few components in the other propeller and the two gauntlets were quickly of the same weight, without a milligram of difference. Now he wasn't busy anymore, he felt his respiration get stuck in his throat, and the remnants of his nightmares were coming back into his mind. He instantly asked his artificial friend:

"By any chance, do you have something interesting to tell me?"

"Mister Parker is currently fighting," the robotic voice answered after a short but hesitant silence.

"Is he doing okay? Is he hurt?"

"According to Karen, he didn't get any injury. But his opponent is in possession of a strange weapon, that they are trying to analyze."

F.R.I.D.A.Y got silent again for a few moments, and Tony stayed concentrated, ready to jump in his suit to join the teenager if he needed him, and the android added:

"Karen told me that Mister Parker wanted to warn you that this weapon was maybe of alien origin."

At these words, he frowned, and a bad feeling nested in his mind while an awful taste filled his mouth.

"What does this weapon look like?"

A couple of seconds elapsed.

"According to Mister Parker and Karen's description, this weapon is strongly similar to the Chitauri weapons used by Adrian Toomes and his team- Sir! Peter was hit! Communications got interrupted!" F.R.I.D.A.Y suddenly exclaimed, alarmed.

"What? Give me his vitals immediately, and get my suit ready!"

"I… I don't get any information from Karen anymore."

"Take me to his last known location, NOW!"

He had never flown so quickly and being so afraid. The landscape was blurred, erased by the speed of his suit, and while F.R.I.D.A.Y was desperately trying to get anything from Peter's artificial intelligence, he was freaking out. This couldn't happen, right? Not to Peter. He had probably found a way to pull through. He was smart, resourceful, bright. He couldn't be...

Tony stopped in his tracks, refusing to finish this thought, and wanted to shout in frustration. Why was he so slow? Why couldn't he protect the people important to him? Why, why, why?

He landed at the last place F.R.I.D.A.Y had been able to locate the young boy. He felt despair and dread fill his body when he understood the street he was in was entirely empty. There wasn't a soul in this place; only trash cans, a ground scattered with rubbish, defective lamps, but there wasn't any spider-kid in sight.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a scan to look out for any sign of life," the frantic billionaire ordered. "Even if it means detecting a simple roach, got it? Spider-Man, are you here? SPIDER-MAN!"

"Sir," the artificial intelligence intervened, "a human silhouette is close to us and appears to be approaching quickly."

She was right. A few seconds later, a couple of seconds that seemed to last for an eternity, he saw Peter who, dressed up in his civil persona, was rushing towards him, looking more than relieved.

"Mister Stark!" He cried out, obviously overjoyed to see him. "I didn't-"

He was stopped in his tracks by Tony who, having (hopefully) rushed out of his armor, had literally tackled him, trapping his in a tight embrace. Slightly confused and embarrassed at the beginning, he then returned the hug and placed his arms around his mentor, feeling that the latter was struggling to calm down.

"Mister Stark?" He asked shyly.

"You're okay," the inventor articulated with a raspy voice.

It was both a question and an affirmation.

"I'm fine," the boy confirmed.

"Good."

The adult finally grudgingly released the teenager, but not entirely. He kept holding him at arms' length to look at him, trying to spot any injury or sign that would prove the other super-hero was in need of medical care. When he didn't see anything, he sighed, master of his breath at last.

"Tell me what happened. Was it because of the weapon you were talking about that the communications were cut?"

"Yes," Peter asserted. "This weapon, it… I'm so sorry, it's my fault, if only I had paid more attention!"

"Goodness, Underoos, calm down and explain. What did it do?"

"Well, when it hit me, it… it made my suit melt."

"Melt?"

"Yes. It was a sort of rifle, and the bullets it shot were probably made of something like acid. I didn't manage to dodge them all, so one of the bullet hit me, exploded against my suit, and my sixth sense started going crazy, so I got away and removed my suit as fast as I could. I think it was a good idea. I mean, the costume… it's only a heap of burnt and fuming fabric now. I'm sorry, Mister Stark. I know I should have taken better care of it."

"What about the guy that attacked you?"

"He probably ran away, Mister Stark. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. So, while waiting for you, I got my backpack and dressed in my normal attire."

"Stop saying sorry, would you? You're okay, and it's the only thing that matters."

He was constantly saying mentally these words again and again, because his still scared mind was not sure yet it was really Peter in front of him, alive and healthy. He added:

"We'll find him, you can be sure of that. And I'll make you another suit, it's not a problem, and it will never be one."

"But," his protégé hesitated, "What about Karen? It's my fault if she… if she was destroyed."

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry too much. Karen's smart, after all that's her reason to be, and don't forget that I am the one that programmed her. She probably had time to redirect herself on one of F.R.I.D.A.Y's networks before your suit entirely disintegrated.

"Oh, I see. It's good, then. I was scared for her."

"Well, now you know."

"Yeah."

"What about you show me what's left of your suit? We should be able to take samples and analyze them to determine the components of the bullets."

"But if it is truly an alien weapon, won't it be hard to identify the components?"

"We've been in contact with aliens in the past, so maybe we'll be able to compare with another weapon."

"Ah."

Peter guided him to the crime scene, and Tony observed that the boy's description was quite exact. The only thing left from the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man suit was a pitiful bunch of suspect matter. An acrid and unpleasant odor was emerging from the former suit, so the mechanic tried not to inhale it too much. He whistled, impressed.

"It's a good thing you got out of your suit in time. Even with your enhanced healing abilities, I wouldn't have given you much of a chance. I would have had to send your aunt flowers again," the billionaire joked, trying to lighten the serious mood floating in the night.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I believe she really appreciated the flowers she had received from you the time I got a cut at my arm."

"I'll keep that in mind. Maybe I should send her a bouquet right now, don't you think? She may get angry when she'll learn what happened to your suit… and when she'll imagine what could have happened to you."

He tried to repress a shiver.

"But you're the lucky one," Peter smiled, "because you can lock yourself at the compound, in your workshop. It's surely one of the safest places in the world. But I'll be obligated to get home, one day. And May will be here, waiting for me with a terrifying calm. I swear, Mister Stark, when she's angry, she's awfully silent, but it's even scarier that the best horror film you can think of."

"I believe you, kid. Sorry, but this time you're on your own. I can do with aliens, but I definitely can't win against your aunt. It's too much for me."

They didn't say anything for a while, enjoying the warm air and light breeze, then the young boy resumed, serious again:

"That rifle… It's unsafe, and in the hands of someone that could be even more dangerous. I thought for sure that we had got all the alien weapons back."

"We'll make sure to make it true, as soon as possible, and we'll ensure it stays that way."

He stopped talking, noticing the teenager's haggard look. He hesitated at first, but then placed a hand on his shoulder in a comforting way, and scrutinized him. The latter shrugged and bit his lips, nervous. He explained:

"I'm sorry, it's just that… I just realized that I could have..."

He paused, and replaced the end of his phrase by a gesture of the hand, designating what was left of his super-hero suit. Tony felt his heart break, instantly understanding what his apprentice meant.

"Hey," he whispered softly.

And that was the only warning he let out before his arms surrounded the teen once again to hold him against his chest. Peter didn't protest, and placed his head in Tony's crook of the neck, seeking warmth and comfort. They stayed this way for a long time, and only the friendly moon witnessed their affectionate hug.

"You know, the traffic control officer post is still available for you."

"No, thank you, Mister Stark," the kid snorted.

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages, that's was Tony tried to remember when he was attempting to cheer himself up.

But at least, when he couldn't manage to, Peter was there and never failed.

-000-

 **Yay! I did it! How was it?**

 **I loved writing this chapter… but my favorite part was the hug. I had to write a hug for this story, so here it is!**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, I think the next one will be the last (not sure yet!). But, if this is my first story, it certainly won't be the last! I love Tony and Peter way too much to stop now.**

 **I also hope I didn't make too many mistakes! Feel free to comment and tell me what I could improve, that would be really kind of you!**

 **Thanks again for the lovely reviews I got for the first chapter!**

 **See you soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, I confess. I changed my mind. I may have gotten too excited. This chapter was really difficult to write at the beginning, because I didn't really know how to write it. Then I had a revelation, and I couldn't stop anymore. So… I cut the chapter in two. It gives me more time to concentrate on the second half, that isn't completed yet.**

 **Your attention please, dear readers, I tried a new point of view: Peter's. I hope you'll find it well written! Strangely, it was more difficult to write than Tony's point of view. But, hey, I have to adapt to the different characters and their personalities, it's a true challenge and that's one of the most fascinating thing when writing!**

 **Huge thanks to** **Complicated-little-Jellie, kydh10, Beasttamer99, karen potter 97, sonicxjones, poohbear123, shizune19, MsDaHedgehog, AndurilofTolkien, ryelol, shaycalvert03, kushio3, Aparecium Inkwell** **and** **bernadetteburns** **for adding this story to their alert and/or favorite list!**

 **And special thanks to gammathetaalpha, kushio3, AndurilofTolkien, Fan02, poohbear123, sonicxjones, Marshmallow016 and Guest for their lovely reviews! You guys are awesome and made my day a thousand times better!**

 **Enjoy!**

-000-

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages. But it also brought an equal amount of problems.

000

Peter stretched in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, as he sighed slightly. He was currently in a school bus in direction of the Bronx Zoo, at the north of the city, obviously sitting next to Ned. It was a visit that their geology and biology teachers had organized, and he had to admit that, despite his being exhausted, he was quite excited. Even Flash, who was as irritating as ever, didn't manage to tarnish his eagerness.

"Hey, Parker!" He had shouted a few moments ago. "What is it like, to come back home? Do you think we're going to see macaques? They're your cousins, right?"

"Be quiet, Flash, and leave me alone," Peter had answered unintelligibly.

It had made the other teenager snicker, regardless of the teachers' scolding, delighted that the so-called intern from Stark Industries couldn't find a better reply. Actually, the latter couldn't be less interested by the other's taunts. He was mainly trying to take advantage of the drive to sleep a little, so he could feel at his best during the visit.

Last night had been harsh, and he had gotten home later than intended. He'd thought he would simply have to patrol without having to intervene, in his new costume, thanks to Mister Stark who had been nice enough to make him a whole new suit in less than a day so he could keep on protecting the city. The cloth was more comfortable than ever, and he would have loved to wander lazily in the city for a couple of hours, swinging between skyscrapers with his webs, if there hadn't been so much work to do that night. It was like every robbers and burglars had agreed to operate this night, overburdening the police officers (and the super-hero). It was a Thursday, which was usually one of the most peaceful days of the week, and yet, at eleven in the evening, Spider-Man had already stopped three groups of robbers, two thieves awfully tedious to handle, and he had even prevented two car accidents.

He had even hoped, for a moment, that Captain America would appear from out of nowhere to give him a hand, despite his knowing it was one of his childhood dreams that had made think of this. He would have loved fighting alongside one of his heroes, instead of fighting against him. He couldn't even imagine combating with the whole Avengers, together, at his side! If this was to happen someday, which he was hoping with all his heart, he would probably be unable to concentrate two minutes without lapsing into euphoria about his extraordinary allies. Which would totally ridicule him.

But he hadn't gotten any help, and if he did handle everything greatly like an accomplished super-hero, he also got home, exhausted, at two in the morning, praying that May hadn't realized anything.

Fortunately for him, this was what happened, and he didn't got any punishment because May had fallen asleep way before his usual curfew, and had thus thought her nephew had respected the constraint. Maybe it was a bit too late to tell her the truth, now.

Unfortunately for him, he had to get up sooner for the school trip, and had only slept for about four little hours.

Peter groaned, and rubbed his eyes as he yawned with difficulty. Ned gave him a worried glance.

"Dude, was it really that intense?"

"You have no idea. I swear, it was like every criminal had agreed to choose this date out of the others. I thought I was going to get crazy."

"You pulled an all-nighter?"

"No, I guess it could have been worse. I just hope it'll be calmer the next couple of days. I don't think I'll be able to stand another night with this same rhythm of crimes."

His friend had the kindness, in spite of his legendary eloquence, not to talk too much so he could let the other teen grab a few more minutes of precious sleep. His head resting against the glass regardless of the reverberations that hindered him, he was starting to doze off when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it, frowning, and stared longingly the phone number that was displayed on the screen and gaped at the realization of who was currently calling him.

"Peter," his best friend breathed in wonder, leaning his head over his friend's shoulder and looking as amazed as him. "Is that… is that him? Like, for real?"

"I think so," the other boy whispered.

"Whoa… that's so cool. Do you think he's calling you because of this night? Oh, sorry, man" Ned added in an excited murmur, having just received an alarmed look from his friend, asking him to be more discreet. "But, what are you waiting for? Answer him!"

Peter rolled his eyes in amusement, a mimic that weirdly reminded of the person who was presently trying to join him. He took the call.

"Hey, Mister Stark," the super-hero in training greeted. Is everything alright?

"I was going to ask you the same question kid," his mentor retorted, panting, as if he was struggling to catch his breath. "You sure took your sweet time to answer this call."

"O-oh, I'm sorry. I'm in the school bus, it was a bit difficult to answer right away."

He was well aware it was an absolutely ridiculous excuse. But he couldn't exactly imagine having to explain to his idol he had stayed stunned in bliss in front of his phone screen, as he tried to digest the fact that his hero in person was calling him. He felt himself blush, and heard Flash's heavy steps too late. The latter, curious because of the name he had heard from his victim, had approached him like a predator. Ned, bless him, tried to prevent him from reaching Peter by improvising a role of human shield, but the arrogant teenager managed to dodge past him, pushed him bluntly and wrested the phone from the secretly enhanced teen, a smug and mocking smile on his lips. Peter exclaimed:

"Flash! Give it back!"

"Come on, Parker," the latter goaded, waving his trophy in the air, "don't tell me you're still trying to make someone believe you really got accepted as an intern for Stark Industries? Dude, you got to change your tactic, because it's the lamest attempt I've ever-"

"… Flash, I believe? Is that your real name? Unfortunately, I can't exactly say I appreciated in any way your interruption. I'm quite sure I wished to speak to my intern, not to you, Mister… Thompson."

It was a moment that Ned and him would remember for a long, very long time. Flash froze, his arm still holding the phone up, and his mouth gaping. His gaze, staring at Peter, slowly got up to the object where Tony Stark's voice had just resonated from. He lowered it as if it was suddenly the most precious thing in the world. Maybe that, to him, it was. He stammered, astonished:

"Y-yo-your… your intern?"

"Didn't I make myself clear enough? I'd like to speak to Mister Parker. Please give his phone back right now."

The expression on Flash's face was priceless. He tossed the phone to his owner instantly, scrutinizing him as if it was the first time he truly saw the teenager. Peter averted his gaze to concentrate on the explication he was going to give the billionaire.

"Sorry, Mister Stark, it was… uh, it was one of my classmates."

"Yeah, I think I understood this, Mister Parker," the genius mocked gently from the other side of the phone line. It looks like you two are getting along wonderfully well."

He didn't seem to be mad at him. Peter let a relieved smile appear on his face, and he ignored the insistent gazes of his classmates, who had got entirely quiet after Flash's intervention, in a futile attempts to listen to the conversation. Wondering why his mentor was calling him, he voiced:

"You have no idea. So, did you need me for something, Mister Stark?"

"Oh, I just wanted to be sure you were on a field trip, today.

"That's right," the boy answered, feeling confusion and even a certain discomfort invading his mind. "Why?"

"Just like that. I wasn't sure, so I wanted to ask you directly. So, now I know I won't see you today, right? You'll make up for your internship work later."

"Alright, Sir."

"Good. Have a nice day, kid."

And the call ended. The teen, still bewildered, blinked as he peered at his phone, almost expecting another call. He stowed it way a few seconds later, and then remembered he wasn't alone. He looked up, and suddenly had to support the other students' dumbstruck looks. He only received a glance full of pity from Ned before he got assaulted by a multitude of questions. If the whole zoo visit was going to be that intense because of his comrades' enthusiastic interrogations, then the day was going to be awfully long.

But the thing that bothered him the most was the bad feeling he couldn't manage to chase away from his mind.

000

 _Panic attack successfully avoided_ , Tony thought in visible relief. He posed carelessly his phone on a table, and turned towards his desk.

He had really thought his heart stopped beating when he had received this picture while he was working on a random project. He was almost sure he had heard F.R.I.D.A.Y talking somewhere above his head, but, in all honesty, he hadn't really payed attention, and instead he had thrown himself on his mobile phone.

Peter had thus left with his class to the zoo across town, and this Flash's interfering had at least the advantage to prove it wasn't a lie or trickery. He obviously did trust his protégé, but being able to talk to him to check if he was alright had made him feel better. Moreover, the kid was apparently unaware of what was happening. It was better this way, actually. He would be able to deal with this situation without incident, and maybe even without worrying the boy, which was undoubtedly a plus.

The inventor squinted slightly as he observed the screen in front of him. A blurred photo was displayed on it, representing a silhouette wearing a Spider-Man suit, and he had to admit it was quite an accurate suit compared to the original one because he had seriously thought for a few seconds that it was Peter. The body was tied to a chair, with their head dangling. A sign, on which was written an address, was resting on the floor at their feet.

"So it's definitely not Underoos."

"That is correct, Sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y affirmed. You had no reason to worry."

"Oh no, F.R.I, that won't work with me. Don't tell me you're upset?"

"I'm not sure about whether I possess the ability to feel insulted, Sir."

"We both know that, if we're considering your sass and your capacity to look for the least flaw in my orders to deflect them in order to, I quote, act for my well-being, then you're totally able to feel offended. Are you pouting?" The forty-year-old snickered.

"It seemed to me that I had confirmed Mister Parker had been localized thanks to his suit," the artificial intelligence retorted, "which he had taken with him for his field trip. But you didn't listen, and absolutely wanted to call him."

"Okay," Tony confessed, "I may or may have not slightly freaked out."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Boss."

"Stop sassing me and let's go back to work. We have a case all the more urgent to take care of. Could it be a trap then?"

"The probability that this photo would lead to a pitfall is of eighty-seven per cent, Sir."

"What about the thirteen per cent left?"

"According to my estimations, there are still a probability of seven per cent for a real hostage close to being executed, another, about this picture being falsified, of five per cent, and finally there remain a risk of one per cent that a person had been confounded and captured instead of the true target. The picture quality is extremely bad. I need more time to analyze it, and I have no certitude about being able to obtain more information. I couldn't trace the picture to its sender."

"Hum. In any case, someone wants to lure me there. Where's the appointment?"

"It is located ten thousand five hundred and eighty feet south west of your current location."

"Interesting."

He stayed quiet for a moment, examining with attention the map that F.R.I.D.A.Y had just made appear, detailing with precision the place indicated by the sign, as well as the surroundings.

"I withdraw what I just say," he mumbled. "It's everything but interesting. There's unquestionably nothing there. Well, only empty and abandoned warehouses. How original… It's like we're in a very bad action movie. We only need first price suits and explosions everywhere. I don't even want to go and have a look."

"I strongly advise against going by yourself."

"I know, that would be the worst idea I could even think of. But I'll still have to investigate on what's happening in these warehouses and why they gave me this address. What about sending the Mark 47 there?"

"It would indeed be a more prudent solution."

"Let's do this, then. I want a live broadcast of what the armor see and hear, capisce?"

He didn't perceive any answer. He looked up, frowning, and demanded:

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Didn't you listen to what I say? Wait. You're supposed to hear everything. What's wrong?"

"My apologies. It would appear that a malfunction occurred in my data base. I am currently trying to determine its origin, Sir."

"Goodness."

Tony took his head into his hands, forcing himself to exhale deeply, while waiting anxiously for the android to give him more details. First, there was this picture, then Peter who didn't answer right away (yes, he did overreacted a little, but he was slowly getting used to it, he liked the kid too much), and, now, one of his best creations was presenting anomalies?

"It seems someone attempted to hack my system."

"Tell me you stopped it."

"I did. I am now trying to get as much information as possible about the hacker. Fortunately, my data base doesn't look damaged in any way."

"Good. Let's resume. I want you to send the Mark 47 to the rendezvous place on reconnaissance. Record evrything on a safe network, understood? Do the same with what you'll find about the hacker. The guy that tried this will only be able to kick himself over it."

"Yes, Sir. I just send the armor."

The billionaire got up, still awfully anxious, and took his phone back before leaving his workshop. It was about eight in the morning, and yet it was still dark outside because of the thick clouds blackening the sky and giving it a menacing air. The silence in the compound, as if announcing oncoming problems, was oppressive.

He frowned. It was even too silent, to the point of getting terribly cliché. Admittedly, since a few months, there weren't many people inside the building, but he could still be sure to meet someone when he roamed the long hallways or crossed some rooms. The mechanic was stricken by a bad feeling. _Like in these movies with the suits of poor taste_ , a fragment of his mind suggested quite unnecessarily.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell me who's present at the compound at this moment."

The order seemed to evaporate in the heavy atmosphere.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

His breath got stuck in his throat when, one more, he didn't get any answer from his artificial intelligence. His lungs began to burn because of the lack of oxygen, and he had to sit down not to risk to get hurt by losing his balance. It really wasn't the moment to get injured. Tony groaned, desperately trying to regain control of his respiration for the second time of the day, but he pertinently knew it would be extremely difficult to do so. He'd just lost F.R.I.D.A.Y, had almost no more allies, and didn't have his armor with him; in short, he was alone.

He unlocked with a trembling hand his phone, and quickly dialed a phone number. He almost cried in joy when the person picked up.

"Stark? What's wrong?"

"Cho. Where are you? There's no one at the compound."

"… Are you alright, Stark?" The doctor asked, sounding worried. "Don't you remember what you said?"

"What do you mean? What did I say?"

"You called everyone this morning, about an hour ago, to make us leave the compound. You claimed that you wanted to be entirely alone and- Oh. It was your voice, your way of speaking… But it wasn't you. Am I right?"

"You're remarkably perspicacious, Doctor," Tony sneered before immediately regretting what he'd just said. He couldn't afford to lose one of his only trusted acquaintance now. "Sorry, it was stupid of me to tell you this. But, seriously, what's happening? Why didn't I heard anything, and why didn't F.R.I.D.A.Y warn me? What do they want with Spider-Man?"

"I… I'm sorry, Tony. I don't know anything. It's my fault you're alone. I'll get back to the compound as soon as I can."

"I beg of you, don't come back," the inventor growled. "This place isn't safe anymore. Even F.R.I.D.A.Y doesn't answer no more. You have to be careful, Cho."

"Stark, don't-"

The genius forced himself to breath despite the breathtaking dread invading his whole body. He hadn't hung up, no; the phone line was abruptly cut, therefore ending the call. He only hoped Helen wasn't in danger because of him.

The people who had decided to make his day miserable were thus observing him, and had probably not appreciated his phone call. He would have liked to warn Pepper, Happy or Rhodey he was apparently going to get into trouble, but he had to look at the evidence: it wasn't possible anymore.

He blinked, then understood that the phone line wasn't the only thing that was cut. He didn't instantly realized it, but there wasn't any light now.

"Oh, I see," he grumbled.

The current had been switched off, too. Someone was trying to scare him, and, clearly, it was a success. The picture and the address had been a decoy, but his assailant, understanding the billionaire wouldn't leave his base himself, had opted for another strategy, locking him in his own home. The chances for him to manage to escape by himself were low, and he had to wait for the return of the Mark 47, the only armor currently working, which wouldn't come back before it had entirely inspected the warehouses. The ones who had organized this were obviously not total idiots.

It didn't necessarily mean he was going to simply wait for the others to capture or kill him.

They would probably prevent him from getting out with one of his vehicles, or maybe his cars were even trapped with bombs. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't have time to check everything while keeping enough time for other preparations. He didn't know when exactly he was going to get attacked, and this was a huge problem. He hated uncertainties.

He got up, and wandered once more towards his workshop. He had been taken by surprise, indeed. But it wasn't like he had never thought of a situation like this one before in his life. The mechanic supposed it was one of the few advantages for being insomniac. During one of the myriad of nights he had spent working like a maniac to forget for a few hours his problems, he had thought about making every single door unlockable manually, even when there wasn't any current. But, the most important thing was that he had thought about installing another power source that only he knew of. Actually, he had even ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y not to register this generator anywhere, and not to put any security camera near it.

Hey, he wasn't considered as a genius for nothing. Well, okay, he was also slightly paranoid, but it was definitely useful when it permitted saving his own life. His aggressor was going to learn it the hard way.

Tony activated the generator, grinning smugly as he imagined the expression the stranger could make, and fondly patted the electric box. The action he'd just made, as simple it could be, had also obligated F.R.I.D.A.Y to redirect itself towards another safe network nobody had access to, and this even if the artificial intelligence wasn't able to do it by itself because of an eventual trouble. If it was the case, if his android was unable to react anymore, he could still connect himself to the network later to save his virtual friend.

However, he had to concentrate on his own survival first. It wasn't going to be a fun time, but he had experienced worse situations. After all, he did infiltrated a guarded mansion with grenades disguised as Christmas balls.

Tony abruptly looked up, his eyes burning with a crazy spark.

Who knows, maybe his new enemy liked surprises.

000

Peter had to admit the zoo visit was really nice. The other teenagers had finally calmed down after a moment, thanks to his teachers who had to resort to menace, promising to the students detention if they didn't stop harassing the shy boy with their questions. They had probably pitied him, something he was rather grateful for.

There was obviously work to do; it wasn't a simple touristic visit because he, along with Ned and Michelle, had to choose a category of animals present in the zoo and make a presentation about their subject to the class during the following week. Michelle had suggested the birds of prey, and the two best friends didn't have any objection with this topic. But, when they had asked her why she wanted these animals instead of another category, she had answered with a dangerous smile:

"Birds of prey are excellent observers. They get up high, attentive and unnoticed, before launching their attack on their preys. Some of them can even spot a spider from several hundred meters of distance."

Peter had deliberately ignored the shivers that had then traversed his spine.

At first, it had been difficult, but after several dozens of minutes he had finally been able to take his mind off, even managing to forget the strange phone call from Stark. They had firstly directed their steps towards the aviary, but had quickly changed their minds. The class had arrived by the Asia Gate, situating their objective at the other side of the park, because the birdcages for the flying predators were regrouped together. They had thus decided to admire the others animals they could find on their path. They had, after all, the whole day for their visit and were determined to have a maximum of fun. They had then observed in awe bears, felines, and different reptiles of all shapes and colors. Ned hadn't really appreciated the snakes, being quite afraid of them, and Michelle entertained herself by telling him all sort of anecdotes concerning these animals. His best friend had yelped in disgust when she had told him a python having once swallowed an entire man, adult-sized of course.

Indeed, it was everything but reassuring.

The young woman had seemingly saw Peter wasn't really feeling well, because she hadn't made any remark about his uncharacteristic silence, even if she had apparently expected him to gush excitedly with Ned about all the animals they were overjoyed to see with their own eyes. She was however occasionally sparing him a glance, full of innuendos, as she drew some snakes on her favorite sketchbook. What innuendos, he had no idea.

They were in front of the lions enclosure, watching them sleep peacefully, when he felt his phone vibrate once again. This time, he decided not to make the person calling him wait too much and was about to answer immediately when he noticed that the number displayed on his screen was totally foreign to his memories. Yet, his hesitation only lasted a second because his instinct knew this call was important. He took the mobile phone to his ear, casting his curious friend a sorry look.

"Hello?"

"Peter!" A familiar voice exclaimed, even if slightly distorted. Please, tell me you're alright!"

"Mrs Cho? Yeah, I'm fine. What's happening?"

"I thought Tony had said your name while we were talking, and considering the state he was in, I wanted to check on you. You may be in danger, Peter."

"What are you talking about?" The boy questioned, who was getting awfully worried.

"I think someone decided to target Stark."

000

Tony had been quite efficient, enough to give himself a mental pat on the back. Nobody had arrived yet, so he had taken profit from this to prepare himself. For people that well organized (and now he was sure they were a group, because he wasn't optimist enough to hope the hacker would come alone at the compound), they were incredibly late.

He had first opened every doors, except the one for the main entry, with a command he had entered on a computer, had blocked them, and had shut the current down once more. It was risky, he knew it, but the armor had yet to come back, so, with or without power source, his assailants were presumably going to be one step ahead on him. The inventor preferred to put his extra energy source to safety, especially if it was the last protection for his artificial intelligence. He didn't want to lose another one. Moreover, he had at least the home advantage. He knew each corner, each room, each closet, each piece of furniture of the building. He could take his foes by surprise.

It obviously depended on the stuff they were in possession of. The mechanic didn't exactly knew what to expect. Glasses for night vision or thermal cameras? Tasers, tranquilizer rifles or lethal weapons? People wearing bullet-proof jackets or entire war outfits? And how many of them would come? Five, ten, twenty? He was realistic; he knew it would be difficult for him to get rid of them.

But the forty-year-old hadn't spent too much time on the question, and had decided to create a mixture of traps, some as old as the world, others using more recent technologies.

Tony had begun with a web launcher he had originally crafted for the spider-kid, using it to plentifully recover with web all the wall-mounted cameras of the compound, without any exception. He had then hidden his own tiny cameras under some pieces of furniture, which would send the videos towards the safe network (which he hoped was still as safe as before) that F.R.I.D.A.Y had chosen when it was still operational. This way, if he was to be captured, there would still be a source, as tenuous as it could be, of information for the people who would take interest in his disappearance and that his artificial intelligence would consider as trustworthy.

Well, that was assuming there would be someone to save him (or at least attempt to) and that his android wasn't entirely destroyed.

At this thought, the philanthropist had spluttered anxiously and his already shaking breath had become jerky. He had forced himself to keep on working, concentrating on the gun he had been holding between his fingers and hesitating between choosing real bullets or sedatives, not knowing if he had to focus on his survival or his ethic. At the end, he had opted for sedatives. With doses that could still put a furious Hulk to sleep. Whatever the dose of anesthetic in his gun was, it wouldn't kill, and he didn't want to take the risk to stumble on an awakened foe a few minutes after he had shot them.

He had continued his setting up as fast as humanly possible. Except for the ground floor, he had recovered all the windows, had trapped all the doorways he could think of (and, man, _that_ was going to be fun to watch), and, because the closets with household products had normal doors, with handles, he had tethered foghorns on the inside of the door, which would let him know where his foes could be. It was perfectly rudimentary, and they were probably expecting him to use more… sophisticated material. That was one of the reasons they had taken him (almost) all sources of power; they thought they could handicap him and make him defenseless. Too bad for them, really.

Galvanized by desperation, he probably had never worked that quickly before.

Now, armed with incongruous and weird tools, he would maybe have been called "Inspector Gadget" by a snickering Peter if the latter had been here with him.

Tony came to a stop, frozen by a ghastly revelation.

Peter.

He had talked to him when communications weren't down yet. But he was already spied on at that moment, when F.R.I.D.A.Y had also begun to derail. They might have heard his real name, and, if it was the case, then the teenager and his aunt were in danger.

By his fault. It was always because of him.

The inventor gritted his teeth, miserable but determined. He wouldn't let anyone hurt them. It was only another reason for him to fight with all his strength.

It was approximately ten minutes later, as he was tried to be inconspicuous, that he heard the first questionable sound. Well, actually, this expression was perhaps a bit too modest to describe the blare produced by the foghorn somewhere below him, on the ground floor. It was the floor he had trapped the least, so he could keep a few tricks up his sleeve. However, it didn't mean it was a safe place to explore.

As if to prove the forty-year-old right, a muffled shout went to his ears. He moved silently, paying attention to each of his steps. Slipping on his nose the glasses with thermal vision, a wonderful idea he had made a few months ago when he was bored, he walked on the tip of his toes to sneak to the gym room Peter and himself usually trained. He carefully avoided the trap in the doorway, and leaned on the wall to count the silhouettes he could perceive. The billionaire let a worried grunt escape from his lips, his face contorting in a grimace.

They had to be about fifteen, and, considering the way they were moving, they were plausibly heavily armed; though he didn't know yet if it was to put him to sleep or to kill him. The only positive point Tony could think of after seeing this was that, apparently, they weren't equipped with thermal detection stuff, because they were all roaming randomly on the first floor. One of the silhouettes seemed to have one injured arm, dangling the long of their body, which made the otherwise tense man cackle, because it probably corresponded to the cry he had heard a couple of seconds ago. The poor guy had possibly touched one of the handles of the main doors, which the genius had made white-hot with a waffle iron. His gluttony was doing him a service, for once!

Maybe he did had an advantage, in the end.

The forty-year-old glanced towards the wall separating him from the outside of the building, trying to detect more thermal signatures, and saw three of them, quite far way from him, motionless and at a regular distance from each other, which probably meant that these three men were drivers. To escape with his own vehicle was to risky and predictable of him, but… he could steal the ones his aggressors had so kindly put to his disposition.

The gym room had large windows, recovered with sheets and duct tape. There were also solid ropes stored in the room, which he could use as an emergency exit. The problem, if he put his plan to action immediately, was that the foes present in the compound would find the building too silent and would seemingly understand that he was trying to escape. That's why he needed a diversion. _That_ _sh_ _ouldn't be something too difficult to_ _accomplish_ , Tony thought with a grin.

Being a Stark had a lot of advantages. But it also brought an equal amount of problems.

So, when it happened, he loved, in a sort of compensation, to make his enemies' life hell.

-000-

 **Soooo… that's it. How was it?**

 **I honestly didn't think I would go that far. When I began writing this story, I just imagined fluffy one-shots between Peter and Tony and… well… certainly not this. xD**

 **I hope, with all my heart, that you liked this chapter. I'd love to get your opinion on it, even if it's a critic! (And please tell me if you spot any mistake!)**

 **The next chapter will be uploaded soon, I promise ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so happy to publish this chapter! I'm so sorry, I know it's been a week since the last one, but it should be even better than the others!**

 **gammathetaalpha, thank you so much for kindly editing the whole chapter! I don't know what I would have done without your help!**

 **Thanks to CupcakeCookie21, Pandora Finesilver, leezee, BurningRosethorn, find true strength, FanGirlForever19, Cscorey, Agent blue rose, everHermione and sappjody for adding this story to their alert and/or favorite list!**

 **And, once again, thanks to gammathetaaplha, Ikia and sonicxjones for their reviews! I loved reading them!**

 **Enjoy!**

-000-

Maybe being a Stark didn't have that many advantages. That was a thought beginning to cross Tony's mind.

He had admit his plan could be regarded as a suicide. It wasn't that surprising in itself, because most of the ideas he came up with when he was trying not to die were generally belonging, in a quite paradoxical way, in the category of stupid ideas that shouldn't be reproduced at home.

It was mostly a race against the clock, as well as a giant and possibly deadly game of hide-and-seek. He couldn't afford to fail, after all.

In order to execute his plan, he had to go to the chemistry laboratory, which was on the ground floor, which was where the assailants were actually looking for him. Fortunately for him, there were several staircases in the compound, one of which led to the room he had to go to. This was the main reason he had chosen that specific laboratory. He could go in there, take what he needed to take, while still being able to make a break for it if there was an issue.

But the mechanic still wanted to complete the preparations of the gym room he was hiding before he ran out of time. He had already firmly tied a few ropes together, which gave him a solid length of about seventeen feet. It would probably be enough for him to escape, considering the fact he was on the second floor.

The dilemma he now had was making him hesitate between putting the gigantic rope in place immediately or not. If he did it right away, namely, if he hung the rope to throw most of it by the bay window he would have to open, he was taking the risk of getting detected, either by the men inside or the drivers. After all, they may be in possession of binoculars they were using to observe the building, and thus may be able to give more information to their accomplices.

The problem was that if he waited to accomplish his "little" diversion, he wasn't sure whether he was going to have enough time to set everything up. Tony supposed it wouldn't take too much time to prepare, but he would still greatly appreciate a smooth landing, instead of falling down on the ground because he had made a miscalculation. Moreover, the least second was extremely precious to him, and he couldn't afford to waste any.

Still, everything would have been way easier if he had been able to call his armor back, if he had to be sure to escape before the intruders' arrival, but, without electricity, it would have been difficult anyway. Once this case was finally taken care of, the genius would make a point of creating an offline connection between his armor and himself, without needing the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y. He would discover the secrets of telepathy, if that was the only way to do it.

Oh, and after all, screw the second solution, Tony thought, irritated. He was lucky to still be relatively calm (relatively being the key word), so it was probably for the best if he set everything up while he still could. If someone were to enter this room and remove his emergency exit by getting rid of the rope, which would be quite irksome, he could still think about a plan B, then a plan C, and if he really had to, even a plan D while he progressed towards the laboratory and the other rooms.

He fixed the rope in the hooks he had put on the ceiling, then opened a part of the large window, and threw the other end of the rope out. Having kept the thermal detection glasses on his nose, he could, at the same time, watch out for his foes' movements. Tony couldn't run the risk of being taken by surprise because he'd taken them off, even with the intention of doing so only for a few moments. He simply had to lower his head slightly and look above his glasses, like he often did when it was a normal pair of sunglasses.

He heart rate increased when he spotted one of the men going up a stairwell, but luckily, the silhouette he could perceive through his glasses was still faraway off, on the other side of the floor. Nonetheless, he had to hurry before the others also rejoined their colleague.

Tony saw three of them by his personal garage, who didn't seem likely to move any time soon. It was definitely too late for a little road trip in one of his convertible cars.

The inventor put the backpack he had stowed his stuff in on his shoulders, and left the training room with precaution, going to the west and hoping with all his being that the others wouldn't decide to go in his direction first. Otherwise, there was a great risk of his plan failing. Tony wouldn't let that happen if he could prevent it.

His lucky star seemed to actually listen to him for once, because he had a clear field when he arrived at the stairs.

He went down, taking care to be as swift and silent as possible. He rushed to the chemistry lab, avoiding the trap at its entry. The booby-trap was a tripwire that if moved when someone pushed on it carelessly, while walking for example, activated a foghorn. He couldn't exactly afford to get detected right now.

He progressed deeper in the storeroom and discovered, with no small amount of pleasure, what he was looking for. Wonderful quantities of pure and solid potassium, hermetically stocked in bottles filled with mineral oil.

"Hey, you," he mumbled with a grin.

He stowed two bottles in his bag. He was about to leave the room, when he noticed liquid chlorine and alcohol, hopefully separated, which gave him another awesome idea. He took one of each.

He now had to sneak off into the northernmost living room on the second floor, the same floor the gym was on. That area had two access points, one of which leaded to another staircase which would be useful for his diversion.

Another detail that had helped Tony choose this living room in particular was the water cylinder, which was set off when the fire alarm went off, that was in it. Once again, the odds were in his favor (no, actually, it wasn't luck, but rather another bright idea from him, he didn't have time to be modest), because the fire alarm didn't need a power source to be operational. They were working in completely autonomous, and the water temperature was even adjustable. As a result, it functioned perfectly, despite the fact that the main generator was out of order.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ruckus a foghorn caused, the one in the broom closet, at a distance of about ninety-eight and a half feet from where he was. The genius took advantage of the noisy distraction to dash to the staircase before he could get detected. He climbed the stairs carefully, painfully aware that he wouldn't get a second chance, but fortunately his aggressors had not located him yet. Now, there were five of them on the first floor, four on the second, two were already on the third floor and the others were still on the ground floor. He grimaced when he noticed one intruder was not far from the training room he was planning to escape from.

Another foghorn blared, one of the first floor that sounded close to the stairs. Tony held his breath, and stopped dead in his tracks when one of the men (with a stocky silhouette like his, this was definitely a man) moved towards him, heading down to the ground floor whereas the billionaire was still in the stairwell. He heard a raspy voice, and took his tranquilizer gun in his hand, his heart pounding dangerously in his rib cage.

"No, Stark hadn't been spotted yet. I'm getting back to the ground floor. Some of my men are guarding the weapons storeroom and the garage. No, without electricity, he couldn't have gotten away anyway. This coward must be hiding while waiting for his armor's return. I'll keep you updated. Over."

The mechanic forced himself to wait for the stranger to get to the little platform between the two floors to pounce on him and shoot him three times. His gun had the advantage of being almost entirely silent. The man groaned in surprise but he didn't have the time to defend himself, and he collapsed almost soundlessly to the ground, thanks to the strong sedatives he had just received against his will. Tony searched him quickly, not really wanting to spend too much time on figuring out his identity, and found two weapons, namely two guns, loaded with anesthetics. Which meant they wanted him alive; or, at least, that they needed to bring him alive to their boss.

Huffing loudly, the inventor tied the unconscious mercenary's hands together (well, he assumed the man was one) and got to the second floor. Another man was in his path, in a hallway he was obligated to go by if he didn't want to take too much time reaching the living room. A detour would have been dangerous, anyway. He progressed slowly, his weapon still in hand, loaded and ready to fire. Tony peered past the wall hiding him from the intruder, and watched above his improved glasses to observe the long way he had to go through. The man was turning his back to him, and was walking into one of the rooms in front of him. The engineer hardly managed to keep himself from snickering when he realized it was another training room that the one he wanted to use, but which was also trapped.

The thug didn't notice the trip wire he pushed with his left leg as he entered the room. Neither did he see the screw the moving thread unhooked, nor the wooden plank already oscillating above the room's entrance, only keeping balance thanks to this screw, nor the rope bound to it, nor what this rope was holding unsteadily.

Tony, however, perfectly saw the weight of about forty-four pounds falling down gracefully on the villain's head. He almost pitied him. A groan reached his ears, and, after having checked nobody was coming close, he moved to the body laid out on the ground, raising an eyebrow in an impressed grimace when he observed that the other wasn't totally unconscious,though quite groggy. He had to admit that this guy was tough.

Tony resumed his fast, but prudent dash, and finally reached the living room he wanted. He once again avoided the trap at the entrance of the room, which, that time, was of an entirely different kind, and pushed with all his strength to move a sofa, thus giving access to the alcove sheltering the water cylinder for the fire alarm. He twisted the optical encoder to rise the temperature of the water, to make it warm but not boiling hot. He took out of his backpack the two bottles of potassium, a lighter and a smoke bomb he had crafted in haste with ping-pong balls and tin foil.

He was about to put all this equipment on a table when he saw, through his thermal detection glasses, three silhouettes were approaching dangerously quickly. Swearing loudly, he set the smoke bomb on fire, and rushed behind the sofa to hide himself. The smoke emerging in the room sounded the fire alarm, making the now warm water rain heavily in the room. He hid his hands and the bottles under his jackets so he could keep them dry.

"I know you're here, Stark!" a voice exclaimed.

The genius stooped to have a sneak peek under the piece of furniture that he was using as a shield and discerned, despite the pouring buckets of water and the smoke, three men running in his direction. Because the corridors and the door frames were large enough, they were approaching side to side. Certain they had the advantage, they raced towards him confidently.

And tripped over the colorless plastic film hung (with love, he should mention) in the lower half of the embrasure. Tony thought that, if he had just signed his own death warrant because of this, then his last moments had been particularly hilarious.

The water had quickly stopped the smoke bomb, and stopped pouring just after the three men's fall, with perfect timing. When the water ceased pouring from the ceiling, he took the two blocks of pure potassium out of their bottles, and listened attentively the noises coming out from the other side of the sofa. The mechanic heard annoyed grumbles, and even more irritated voices.

"Stark is on the second floor, the northernmost room!"

"He used plastic film? He's taking us for-"

"I'm going to show this blockhead-"

The idiot in question didn't give them the time to insult him much longer, and threw at them the two chunks of metal, before dashing to the outside of the room by the other entrance, the one that would lead him to the staircase. He didn't bother to turn around to admire the explosion that occurred behind his back. It was far from being powerful enough to transform the living room into a gigantic ash heap, but was enough to knock out the foes in proximity.

The engineer ran as fast as he could to the stairs, climbing the steps four by four, and stopped just in time to hide himself from the sight of a man coming from the third floor. He taking him by surprise and knocked him out. Not bothering to tie his hands together, Tony resumed his hasty walking as soon as he saw his enemy collapse. Through his glasses, he could observe all the intruders going to the newly flooded living room, where their accomplices had alerted them. Even the ones who were previously guarding the garage were joining the others. Counting them quickly, the inventor enumerated eight individuals, so he had rendered six of them harmless… He guessed that, in the end, he wasn't too bad for a coward.

Tony covered the whole third floor without stopping once, and turned around, rummaging again in his bag as he kept an eye on how the situation was evolving. The eight undesirables had spent a few moments together in the same room before going to the stairs and dividing themselves in two groups, one going up and the other going down. Improvising once more a chemist career, the mechanic took the alcohol bottle, that he spilled on the ground in front of him, a bottle of liquid chlorine he put on the floor, and his lighter and small explosives. He set the long strings of the latter on fire, pushing them toward the chlorine and began running again, while his assailants barged on to the third floor and noticed him.

The aspiring mad genius heard outraged shouts, a first explosion caused by the explosives, a second one this time provoked by the reaction between the chlorine and the alcohol, and after that, screams that were considerably less furious and substantially more surprised. Maybe a bit pained, too. But, in all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to care. These idiots were asking for it.

All hail science and explosions.

He reached another staircase and rushed down to the second floor, where he happily observed that there weren't any (conscious) intruders. He looked up. Only two out of the four men were still moving, and yet, they were way slower, probably disoriented.

Tony let a victorious grin take place on his face as he finally headed for the training room. A successful diversion, explosions and science. Maybe in the end, his day wasn't as terrible as he had thought with certainty at first. Yes, there were the intruders, his artificial intelligence out of service and the reparations he would have to pay for the compound, which he had transformed into a giant chemistry laboratory, but a little satisfaction after a properly handled experiment never had harmed anyone.

Sliding carefully into the training room, which was also trapped with weights, he hummed in appreciation when he noticed everything had stayed in place. After having given his surroundings a quick look to check if anybody was coming, he rappelled down and let a relieved sigh escape from his lips when his feet touched the asphalted ground of the outside.

Scanning his environment with his eyes, and taking his tranquilizer gun in hand, he frowned when he perceived drones flying above him. He hadn't spotted them with his thermal detection glasses. What irked him the most was the fact that one of the drones shot him without even giving him enough time to seek cover. He ogled at the anesthetic syringe that had just nestled in his right shoulder. He tried to grumble, "C'mon, tell me I'm dreaming."

His words sounded more like a whine though, and he staggered, his body colliding with the floor. His vision darkened. Tony closed his eyes.

000

"What… what do you mean? He's in danger?" Peter asked in a toneless voice.

He had the feeling his breath had been stopped by panic. The hand that was holding his phone to his ear began to shake, and he had to stabilize it with his other arm to prevent his mobile phone from falling to the ground as he waited for the doctor's answer. From the corner of his eyes, he distinguished Ned and Michelle, whose curious expression had changed into another, more worried this time.

"Someone used his voice to make everyone leave the compound and thus isolate him. If I understood correctly, F.R.I.D.A.Y was also hacked and won't answer anymore," Helen explained.

"But how… how could someone hack F.R.I.D.A.Y? I mean, it is Mister Stark's artificial intelligence! She is super smart!"

"I have no idea. That's what's worrying me the most. I can't call Stark, either. Did you hear from him recently?"

"He called me," the teenager declared, trying to keep his voice low and be discreet. "It was… an hour and a half ago, I think. He asked me if I really was on a field trip today. I thought it was weird, but I didn't pay more attention to it. Maybe I should have."

"It wouldn't have changed anything, Peter. But you said he called you."

"Yeah. Why, is it important?"

"I think that if someone was able to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y, then this person was also probably spying on Tony. And, if this is the case…

"That someone could know."

"About you, yes. You need to be careful. Where are you at the present time?"

"At the Bronx zoo. Did you warn somebody else?"

"I already warned the three other people Stark trust the most, Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes and Mister Hogan. By the way, I asked him to get you. We have other secured bases not far from here, you'll be safe there."

"Wait," the boy intervened quickly. "Please, I'd rather prefer you pick up my aunt May to take her to your base. She's probably in danger, too. I'll join you by myself, you just have to give me the address."

"You're right. Sorry for not having thought of that sooner. Will you be fine finding us alone?"

"I'll have Karen guide me if I need to, don't worry."

He paused, his brain boiling as he tried to think about anything he could do to help them save his mentor.

"But," he suggested with hesitation, "couldn't we attempt to go to the compound? He may need our help, don't you think so?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, that kind of attack can be extremely fast. With the time we'll need to get there, it will doubtlessly be too late by the moment we arrive."

"Mister Stark will fight back, he's not going to let himself be pushed around."

"I know, that's not what I wanted to say. Tell yourself that if the people assaulting Stark could get rid of one of his best creations, they also plausibly took control of the other machines in the compound. Maybe they even managed to take control of the Iron Man armor. Either Tony managed to escape and by now he should going to one of our safe houses, or… or that's not the case. If we go while the enemies are still there, it could be dangerous for us, too. For instance, if you go and get captured, they'll have another means of pressuring Stark. We can't afford to rush headlong into a possible trap, do you understand?"

"Yes, of course. I'm so sorry, it's just that.." Peter trailed, not sure of how to end his phrase.

"You're worried. I know, we all are. But we'll plan something, and we'll get Tony out of the trouble he's in. Join us as soon as possible at the place I'll tell you to go, alright? I'll ask Happy to go get your aunt."

"Got it. Thank you."

He memorized the address, and stowed his phone in his pocket, before turning to his friends. He was finding it hard to breathe, and the look the two others were giving him certainly didn't help him calming down. Biting his lip, he explained nervously, "I have to… I have to go. It's really important."

He wasn't worried about Ned, the latter seemed to have understood his best friend was going to change into his alter ego for an apparently crucial mission, concerning their hero. No, what he feared was Michelle's reaction. He knew it was unwise of him to talk about something that important and secret in front of her, when she could listen to what he was saying, but there was a man's life he cared deeply for at stake, and he didn't have the time to get away or to talk alone. The young woman was silently gauging him, and kept on doing this for several seconds, seconds that were awfully long to Peter.

"Try not to die," she finally answered with a huff. "We got a presentation to do, and I definitely intend to get a good mark."

He shook his head almost violently, articulating a "thank you" with difficulty, before dashing towards the nearest zoo exit. He had probably never run that fast before in his life, and concentrated on ignoring his classmates' intrigued gazes as he ran past them.

He continued to race for a couple of minutes before managing to find a deserted alley, rushing inside to put his suit on.

"Hey, Karen," the boy greeted when his heard his artificial intelligence's voice, "I need your help. Could you guide me to this address?"

"Of course, Peter."

He soared in the air with his webs and gave Karen the location where Dr. Cho wanted him to go to. As he swung above the busy streets of Bronx, Karen informed him that he would take a few dozens minutes before reaching his goal. The teenager decided to sum up what he understood about the events occurring for her.

"Someone decided to target Mister Stark, and apparently F.R.I.D.A.Y was hacked and she won't answer anymore. Could you try to contact her, Karen?"

"I have attempted, and I have not received any reply of any kind. Moreover, no communication with the compound seems to be possible. Everything appears to be broken."

"Does it mean that F.R.I.D.A.Y was… was destroyed?"

"An emergency protocol exists for Mister Stark's artificial intelligence. However, I don't know anything more about this subject."

"Could you try to find out something about this? There could be something like an emergency network for her, don't you think?"

"This could absolutely be a practicable solution. I am now looking for safe networks. Yet, I may not be able to have access to some of them. I have restrictions in relation with the Training Wheels protocol."

Peter groaned, ranting once again about how unfair this protocol was, and how much trouble it had cause him.

"Wouldn't there be a way for you to deactivate it entirely, even temporarily? I know a part of the restrictions were removed thanks to Ned, but… It's really important, Karen. Mister Stark is surely in great danger. It could save his life if we managed to find F.R.I.D.A.Y."

"I do not possess the required qualifications to deactivate the protocol by myself, Peter. I am, however, going to do my best to make myself useful. I found two extremely secured networks that are hard to detect. My data base, programmed by Mister Stark, permitted the discovery to the access, meaning these networks are almost entirely undetectable to strangers."

"Great! Can you connect yourself to them?"

"I can't. A large number of passwords are preventing me from accessing them."

"And… I suppose it's so well guarded it's not even worth trying to hack into them, right?"

"Indeed."

"Let's do it anyway."

"I'm on it."

Karen became silent, and a few minutes later, the teenager reached the base… a base that looked like a laundromat. He stopped in front of the entrance, hesitating to get inside in his suit. But he didn't have the time to ponder the question too much, because Helen exited the building and greeted him with a tired smile.

"Good morning, Spider-Man. Believe me, I would have preferred that we could have met under better circumstances. Let's go inside."

He followed her to the back room (he didn't know a laundromat needed one) and barely refrained himself from gaping in awe, when he saw her push a few buttons on an electric panel, which opened a hidden door. Cho smiled at him.

"After you."

He entered a staircase and descended quickly, almost flying past the forty steps. The super hero reached a vast basement, equipped with quite modern technologies, like the ones at the compound.

"Peter, I still can't connect myself to the network but I'm detecting activity in one of them," Karen suddenly announced. "Rectification. One of them granted me access."

The young man's heart jumped in his chest, swelling with hope.

"Dr. Cho, could you lend me a computer? Karen may have found something useful!"

She instantly guided him towards a small room with an impressive computer, looking interested by the artificial intelligence's potential discovery.

"You can use this, Karen," the doctor said. "Please, show us what you have found."

"Right away, Doctor," the android's feminine voice answered, already connecting to the machine and loudspeaker.

The immense, holographic screen lit up, and a multitude of data popped up. Peter had to admit that Ned would probably have understood more things than him, being way better than him in computer science. Yet, he could still distinguish some details

"So, now, you have access to one of the networks, Karen?" He asked.

"That is correct. Something, or someone, allowed it. Do you want me to connect myself? I do not know what this network contains or protects."

"We'd better try, anyway," Helen intervened. "If Stark made it so secure, there must be a reason. In any case, we can't lose anything more by trying."

"Alright. Connecting mode activated."

A handful of seconds lapsed, during which the two humans held their breath.

"Connection authorized. Good morning, Doctor Cho, Mr. Parker and Karen. It is nice to see you again." a robotic voice that wasn't Karen's formulated.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y!" Peter exclaimed, overjoyed. "You're here!"

"Indeed, Mister Parker. Mister Stark managed to reorient my system on this network, created for an emergency like this one. I was protected from the hacks that damaged my data base. I could thus fix the integrity of my system, and I am now functional again."

"What happened, F.R.I.D.A.Y? What happened to Mister Stark?"

"We suffered from the attacks of a hacker earlier in the morning. The technology that permitted this was extremely advanced. It is highly possible that it could come from Wakanda, because it is very similar to the Wakandan technology. I didn't manage to detect the hacks in time. If Sir hadn't forced my system to be redirected to this channel, I wouldn't have been able to prevent my destruction. Also, I am not able to access the compound's networks."

"Wakandan technology…" Helen repeated, amazed. "It is exceptionally developed, and difficult to match. That is indeed a perfectly logical explanation."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ms. Potts, Happy and May. The latter threw herself on her nephew and hugged him tight, while the two other adults greeted him with a forced smile, too worried to be able to be genuinely happy to see him again. Peter removed his mask, and his taunt asked him, "Are you okay? Mister Hogan told me about what happened to Stark."

"I'm fine, May," the boy reassured her. "Hi, Happy and Ms. Potts."

"Hey there, Peter," the CEO of Stark Industries answered softly, while Happy waved at him. "Please, call me Pepper. Rhodey should be arriving soon, Helen."

"Someone definitely wanted to lure Sir into a trap," the billionaire's artificial intelligence added. "The Mark 47 was sent to investigate, but the connection was lost. I am attempting to regain control over it. Data was registered on another network."

"The second one," Peter guessed.

"Exactly. Here is what it protected."

Files were displayed on the screen. There were several videos, data that the teenager didn't understand, as well as a picture… of him.

"What is it?"

"This picture was sent this morning, asking Sir to go to the indicated address. We have however determined there were high probabilities that a person disguised themselves as Spider-Man and, with the help of an accomplice, faked their capture to pressure Mr. Stark, who called you so he could check if nothing had happened to you, Mr. Parker."

"So, instead, you sent the armor to have a look at the place?" the boy supposed, ignoring the weird feeling in his stomach and avoiding to look his aunt in the eye.

"Absolutely. Videos were recorded by the Mark 47, but they didn't reveal anything. Moreover, because of the brutally interrupted communication, I cannot receive data anymore. New files were added, however, after my system was shut down. These are videos, recorded by Sir's personal and mobile cameras. They are monitoring in real-time what's happening at the compound. Here they are."

The screen, fortunately big enough, divided itself in about thirty boxes, on which the videos appeared. It looked like they were only pictures, because nothing was moving. On some cameras, messy rooms could be seen, as if a hurricane had ravaged all the furniture in its path. There was nobody, but a room was flooded, there were burn marks on some walls, and, in a gym room Peter recognized as the one he often trained in, a rope hung on the ceiling and dangled outside an open window.

"Maybe he managed to get away," the young man said.

"At any rate, he made life tough for them. I'm certain he played with explosives again," the doctor commented. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, could you rewind the videos? So we can see what happened before?"

"Right away, Doctor."

All the videos were rewinded back an hour, and this time, things were quite different on the screens. Numerous armed men, scattered over inside of the compound, seemed to be looking for something- or rather someone- and nobody had illusions about the identity of this "someone".

"Stark's here," Helen said, pointing at one of the screens with her finger.

He was, at this moment, in the same living room Peter had seen flooded, and he wondered what could have happened, even if he suspected he was going to get an answer very soon. His mentor, who was wearing glasses he had never seen before, was rummaging through a backpack, getting two bottles, a weird object in aluminum and what appeared to be a lighter. The mechanic stiffened, sweared crudely, and set the strange aluminum-made thing on fire, before taking shelter behind a large sofa. The unusual object suddenly released grayish clouds of smoke, which activated the fire alarm. Water began to pour from the ceiling.

"I know you're here, Stark!" a voice exclaimed.

Three silhouettes appeared in the field of view of the camera, but, as they were about to barge into the same room the engineer was currently hiding in, still behind the piece of furniture, the three of them simultaneously tripped on something invisible, and took a nosedive. Outraged groans could be heard, and, at the same time, water stopped raining down, only leaving a giant puddle as large as the room.

"Stark is on the second floor, the northernmost room!"

"He used plastic film? He's taking us for-"

"I'm going to show this blockhead-"

But they never finished their sentences, because the inventor threw at their feet two metallic blocks, and rushed out of the living room. The images suddenly blurred, and a loud bang, like an explosion, burst out loudly. When the smoke dissipated, the three intruders were on the ground, and were not moving anymore.

"Stark always had the timing and the style worthy of a movie character." Helen murmured, impressed.

Peter knew he couldn't contradict her on that point.

"What happened?" May asked, confused. "Were those explosives?"

"It must have been alkaline metals," her nephew explained easily. "When they're in a pure state, and contact water, they cause a chemical reaction. The warmer the water is, the more violent the reaction gets. Considering the explosion created, I'd say Mister Stark used potassium or sodium."

"Coming from Tony," Pepper sighed, "it's not really surprising. He must have discovered a sudden passion for chemistry and he will have wanted to make everything explode to take his frustration out on them."

There was silence again, and the group observed worryingly eight more people reach the now flooded room, giving orders to each others before pursuing their paths. Nobody was able to see it on cameras, but they all heard two other explosions as, well as pained screams.

"These guys were asking for it," the billionaire's former bodyguard muttered. "Look, he's in this gym room.''

The others followed his gaze and watched the forty year old man sneak outside by using the rope. For a while, nothing happened, until one of the remaining men began to talk.

"Alright, we got him," he announced with a hoarse voice. "One of the drones took him down. He's harmless now."

Peter stiffened abruptly, feeling desperation invading his whole body. He was not the only one, because the four adults accompanying him were showing similar expressions.

"This prat took down eight of our men," another person intervened, who had just joined the first man. "Let's pack up, retrieve the unconscious ones and Stark, and get out of here. There's no way I'll fall in another one of his stupid traps. I'm sure I have a second degree burn because of that jerk."

They could only watch, helpless, as they watched the intruders get their accomplices back, when May exclaimed, "Stop the video!"

She pointed at a blurry emblem on the shoulder of one of the men. However, no matter how blurry the picture was, the symbol was easily recognizable.

A skull surrounded by six tentacles.

"He was kidnapped by HYDRA," Helen hissed.

The name made Peter react abruptly. He remembered a discussion he had once with his mentor, and which seemed already quite ancient; but he still knew it by heart.

 _"_ _What do you think they're doing in New York, Mister Stark?"_

" _I have no idea. And I don't think I want to know."_

" _Which means you're going to investigate, right?"_

" _Obviously."_

The teenager turned towards Helen.

"Tell me, Ms. Cho, HYDRA, that's the organization Captain America was fighting against, right?"

The doctor nodded, scrutinizing the super-hero. The others did the same, understanding he had come to a realization.

Spider-Man stared once again at the emblem, making the silent promise that, no matter what, he would find Tony Stark.

"I think I have an idea."

000

Maybe being a Stark didn't have that many advantages. That was a thought beginning to cross Tony's mind.

However, what he often forgot was that there were people ready to fight with all their strength for him.

Hydra had better watch out.

-000-

 **How was it? I hope you liked it, please let me know what crossed your mind while you were reading this chapter!**

 **See you soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey ! Guess who's back with a new chapter!:D**

 **I know I've already said this a lot, but thank you, gammathetaalpha, for correcting my mistakes and helping me improving my english !**

 **I'd also like to thank OneTumblrMinute, Steph1215, am1906, SilverRoseThorns, Sisva, Iknightly, maya90 and nananatz for adding this story to their alert/favorite list !**

 **Enjoy !**

-000-

Being a Stark definitely didn't have that many advantages. Tony was sure of it now.

Opening his eyelids, which seemed as heavy as lead, he discovered that he was in a sort of cell, whose bare walls were dirty and didn't have any windows. There was probably a door behind him, but he was tied to a rather uncomfortable chair by a rope, which bound his wrists, ankles and stomach to the piece of furniture. That's why he was unable to prove his theory right.

He didn't have the strength to do it anyway. The sedatives he had received were probably still effective, because he couldn't even remember what he could have done after he left the gym room. Sighing, he did his best to shift on his chair, in order to find a more comfortable position, and went back to sleep as soon as he did.

000

"Aunt May-"

"Don't try that with me! You're not going alone, that's all!"

"But they're going to think we're enemies, if there are too many of us!"

"Not my problem!"

"Anyway, we have to find them, and it'll be quicker if I look for them with my suit!"

"Then, you find them, and you wait for someone to join you before getting close to them!"

"May, we don't have the time for this! We'd better hurry!"

"We're not going to take twenty minutes to join you!"

Peter had been desperately trying to convince his aunt for the last few minutes, and it was definitely not going to be easy to do so. If the two had one thing in common, perhaps because of their family bond, it was that they were as stubborn as mules, and weren't going to forfeit. The teenager could understand May's point of view, who was obviously worried about him, and he was sure that she could understand his too, but both of them remained stuck doggedly to their position. The three other adults watched as spectators the confrontation as if it were a ping-pong match.

"Depending on where I'll be, maybe you'll need that much time! I know you know they'll be more willing to talk to me if I go alone."

Ping.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, there is no way that I'll let you wander around the city searching for fugitives sought internationally! They could hurt you!"

Pong.

"I know they won't. And, if it were to happen, whether I'm alone or not, the outcome of the battle won't change. Actually, I don't want to fight them, so I'd probably leave, and if there was one of you with me it'd be more difficult."

Ping.

May opened her mouth to retort with something, but didn't make any sound. She stayed silent for a couple of seconds. She had run short of arguments.

One point for Peter Parker.

Pepper, who had been silent for a few moments while she was thinking about whether she had the right to come between the aunt and her nephew bickering, finally decided to clear her throat to draw attention to her. Fortunately, it worked, and every head turned towards her.

"We can't afford to quarrel, it would waste too much of our time." She explained with a tremulous, yet assertive voice. "But you're both right about one thing. It's dangerous to go alone. After all, we can't exactly anticipate their reactions when they'll see us. We don't know who'll be there… Nor where to find them, but that's another thing to think about."

She made a brief pause, catching her breath and endeavoring to stay calm in the face of the panic, which seemed to be on the verge of overwhelming her. Her hands were trembling slightly.

"Yet," she began again, "I'm convinced that Peter is the best person to go look for them. He can move quickly across the city, and I'm sure he'll be able to persuade them to help us save Tony. Also… Steve and his allies aren't violent if they don't have a good reason to be. They won't simply attack Peter on sight. I know they're actively sought worldwide, and that they made mistakes, but we all did. They're still fighting against HYDRA, so if it can allow us to save Tony… They'll make an effort to listen to Peter- I mean, Spider-Man."

May was scrutinizing her, as if she was attempting to detect a lie or hypocrisy. Then, she pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, and sighed loudly.

"I know you are all deeply attached to Stark," she admitted, "and I know he also greatly helped you, Peter. But I don't want you to be in danger."

"It's part of my job, I'm a super-hero, May." Peter answered softly.

It would have been useless to try convincing her that it wouldn't be dangerous. The name of HYDRA alone was enough to describe how perilous the mission would be. But it was a mission they couldn't afford to fail

"Precisely, it's not your job! You still go to high school! You should be going out with friends, thinking about what job you'd like to have later, complaining because you have too much homework to do!"

"I already do this, you know."

"But you shouldn't also have to fight criminals everyday!"

"May," Peter voiced, inhaling deeply. "We already had this discussion. For the time being, Mr. Stark is the priority."

His aunt scowled, her eyes clearly showing how anxious she was, but the boy stood his ground and held her stare. Peter tried to look calm and relaxed.

"Alright. But you have to promise that you'll be careful," she required after a dozen seconds of awkward silence.

"I promise."

The super-hero smiled, relieved that May had finally accepted his proposition. The feeling was however quick to be replaced by the adrenaline which began running through his body, making him shiver in anticipation. He announced, "I'm going to look for them right now, I'll keep you updated with Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y!"

"Peter," Helen intervened, and for a short moment the teenager thought she was also going to oppose his idea, "if you- no, when you'll manage to convince them, give them this address and ask them to come here as soon as they can. They may not follow you right away, and it wouldn't be very subtle anyway."

"Understood!"

After having saluted the adults like a soldier, Peter dashed to the exit, donning his mask with precipitation. He climbed the steps four by four, and propelled himself in the air only a couple of seconds after setting his foot outside. The teen was too impatient to really think about a strategy for the search itself.

In any case, the boy had already spotted them once, so the rogue Avengers couldn't be that hard to find. Right?

000

This time, Tony was awakened brutally by a bucket of ice-cold water that someone threw on him, so he didn't have the time to decide whether he could go back to sleep or assess his surroundings. At least, he was now way more alert. He flinched. His first seconds of consciousness were awfully confusing, and the billionaire thought he was back in Afghanistan, with that nightmarish basin of water.

Tony abruptly opened his eyes, and held his breath by reflex, before realizing he wasn't underwater and drowning. Only soaking wet. His memory came back lucidly, and, remembering the last moments he had spent before falling unconscious, he groaned.

Stupid drones.

"Wake up, Stark!" A voice snarled.

The mechanic blinked, still confused, and managed to distinguish a man who had visibly not bothered to hide his identity. The stranger seemed to be in his forties and had light-brown hair, but Tony didn't identify other details about the foe's appearance because his sight was still too blurred.

"You thought you could get away that easily," the man barked, "without having to face us, right? Too bad for you. You've pissed off more than one of us here. Believe me when I tell you some of them are determined to get revenge for the dirty tricks you played on them."

Tony's tongue was still coated and numb, so he settled for rolling his eyes, preferring to wait to be sure he could speak without stammering. The other apparently understood he wasn't instilling that much fear in his prisoner, and kicked his shin.

"I hope you appreciated your little nap, idiot." The man hissed. "You'll have to wait a while before being able to have another one."

He went behind him, and the engineer tried in vain to turn around to spot the door, namely where his potential escape route was. But he only managed to hurt his neck, and he stretched as much as he could despite the ropes that were irritating his skin and tied to him firmly.

Clearing his throat, Tony observed with attention everything that was now in his field of view. He began scrutinizing the walls, mustard yellow in color, but didn't spot anything strange, not even a camera. If there was one, then it was behind his back. He then lowered his head to have a look at himself. He was now only wearing a tee-shirt and pants, cold and sticky because of the water that had woken him up. The mechanic didn't even have shoes or socks on him. Obviously, his watch, his glasses, and every other gadget he could have hidden on him had been removed.

The inventor was interrupted in his inspection by the sound of an opening door behind him, followed by several tread noises, vibrating the ground beneath him. Three men appeared in front of him. Two of them were armed and were wearing the same uniform as the ones who had attacked him at the compound. The third was standing between them, and was undoubtedly their chief, considering his smug expression and his attire which vaguely reminded of a military general, except that it also included the HYDRA symbol. He refrained himself from groaning once again when he saw the skull and tentacles.

The two soldiers turned to their superior, exclaiming monotonously "Hail HYDRA!" before leaving him and his prisoner alone in the almost empty room.

The man, who had brown hair neatly combed, tanned skin and piercing gray eyes, approached Tony with the air of superiority of someone who knew they had the total control of the situation.

"Hello there. I am the Commander Ronald Corll," he announced with a proud smile and a deep voice. "I know you're not entirely ignorant of HYDRA's activities, Mr. Stark, so my name may ring a bell to you."

But the billionaire only blinked before raising an eyebrow, making a dubious expression. It was visibly not the expected reaction, because the Commander's smug smile faltered. The prisoner made a not-so-sorry grimace before he articulated, "Don't know."

"I beg your pardon?" The man fulminated. "Don't play dumb with me, Stark."

"Pardon granted," the latter automatically started. "But you're wrong about one point, Commander, because I'm certainly not playing dumb. Anyway, someone of my caliber and of my genius can hardly manage to play dumb correctly, because their intellectual brilliance always ends up shining through their persona. I know some Strucker, even a Whitehall, but not any Corll. Oh, maybe you were expecting me to shake like a leaf as I heard you revealing your big meanie name? The name that would be the last piece of the immense puzzle that this kidnapping is, and that would let me have a the big revelation? Oops. Try again.

He felt a certain satisfaction to observe his malefactor's face turn beet red, who was trying with difficulty to stay at least a little calm. Tony was however really, extremely irked. He had been kidnapped, which was indeed never good news, but he had been outsmarted by a simple drone when he had thought he had managed to escape. Moreover, not only his abductors were part of HYDRA, whose members had apparently nothing better to do than kidnapping an already quite busy billionaire, but also their leader was an arrogant imbecile he didn't even know.

Understanding that, whatever the outcome of the discussion would be, Tony would in any case be in a difficult situation, but also because he was curious to see how the other would react, he decided to drive the point home.

"You know," he began, "I don't think that your name, Corll, strikes much fear in the heart of your foes. Maybe you should think about changing it. I mean, I've seen more terrifying names, and yours isn't exactly credible. Oh, come on, don't get mad. It's bad for your complexion, Ronny."

More than his sentences, it was apparently the nickname, though very nice, that seemed to make Corll snap. When he heard the word, he inhaled abruptly before holding his breath, which didn't help him to make him look more intimidating (it was rather the contrary), and his eyes widened.

In all honesty, the punch Tony received to his left upper cheek didn't even surprise him. He was asking for it, and he had even thought it would have been more painful. He reopened his eyes, and noticed the redoubtable Ronald who, decidedly not destined to a field man career, was holding his own hand. His face was still crimson reed, and now distorted in a pained expression.

Ah. The redoubtable Ronald. That sounded nice.

Tony would have probably snorted if he didn't have a survival instinct developed just enough not to die. He was quite aware that, if he pushed his boundaries too much, the punishment wouldn't be as benign as a weak blow to his face. The mechanic thus bit on the inside of his cheek to try looking more miserable, like the wretched prisoner he had to be. The Commander finally managed to calm down and revive his haughty expression after a few dozens seconds of jerky breathing. He snarled, disdainful. "You'll stop showing off in a few minutes, Stark."

Tony took his word for it.

000

Peter wanted to hit his head against the wall of the building he was currently on. Repeatedly.

Two hours. He had been looking for the Avengers for two hours.

If he had been able to go back in time, he would probably have go to see his "Himself-from-the-past" and he would have made fun of himself. The people he was looking for were sought worldwide, and, therefore, they weren't exactly going to show themselves on request. But if he had been able to go back in time he would probably have prevented his mentor's kidnapping. It wouldn't help to think too much about this anyway. The boy asked in an almost whiny voice, "Karen, still nothing for you?"

"No, Peter. Nobody corresponding to the rogue Avengers' description was spotted in New York."

"Not even with a camera?"

"Unfortunately not. I am however still pursuing my research. Would you like me to stop and help you in your visual research?"

"Uuuggh. No, thanks, Karen. You have higher chances of finding them than me, so you should keep on doing that. I should be able to get by myself."

For the last few hours, the teenager had thoroughly scoured the city, while the artificial intelligence was devoting itself to electronic data scans, but their investigation wasn't bearing any fruit. He had called Dr. Cho to let her know about the situation, and she had told him the colonel Rhodes had come to the safe house and left soon after, going to the compound with his armor, War Machine. He would have loved to join him, but for the time being he had another mission… which was far from being accomplished.

Spider-Man wandered again for a bit, looking at the terraces of the cafes in the surroundings. He knew it was stupid and that, obviously, he wouldn't find them in that sort of place today. But it had happened once and his brain wouldn't stop whispering him to go have a look just in case they would be there once more. He ended up sitting on the edge of a building, catching his breath and observing the busy streets of Brooklyn under his feet with an attentive eye. He remembered having heard the name from Captain America, so he had thought he would have more luck in this side of the city. It was visibly not the case.

Peter heard a suspect noise of fall to his left, and got up to glance at the alley below. A man was laying down on a large garbage bin and stood up with a groan, mumbling something like, "At least, there aren't cameras here."

He didn't look like a criminal. But now Peter's curiosity was stirred, so he decided to descend from his perch, landing smoothly on the ground, unconsciously blocking the way. The stranger startled violently and the super-hero, realizing he was frightening the other, put his hands up in a comforting gesture and exclaimed, "Wow wow wow, everything's okay! Sorry, sir, I didn't intend to scare you."

The man froze, clearly distrustful, but he didn't look hostile. With his dark hair, blue eyes and slight wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, he seemed to be in his forties. He scrutinized Spider-Man from head to toes, the super-hero having not moved since.

"Don't you usually operate in Queens?" He asked hesitantly. "It's the first time I've seen you here."

"Yes, sir," the young super-hero answered as he lowered his arms, "but I'm looking for someone."

"Ah, so you're chasing criminals?"

He sounded weirdly anxious.

"Not really. It's for a service, actually."

Peter bit his lip, feeling uneasy about the idea to explain everything to a citizen he had just met. At least the latter looked more relaxed now, even if he was still on his guard, and he was now observing him with curiosity. The boy was about to bid the man good day and go away when Karen's voice, imperceptible to the stranger, resounded softly in his ears.

"Peter, this is Scott Lang, who is also known as Ant-Man. His behavior doesn't appear to prove he could be dangerous, so you could try to talk to him. But be careful to what you say so he won't consider you a menace."

His heart rate drastically increased, and he asked with a trembling voice, "Hum, Sir, could you listen to me two minutes? It's really important."

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?" The man called Scott joked nervously, who had remarked the younger's sudden change in attitude.

"I need your help and Mister Captain America's and-"

He stopped talking, because his interlocutor disappeared brutally, even though the teenager hadn't stopped looking at him. He hadn't even blinked.

 _No_ , Peter understood as he perceived a slight movement on the ground, _the other man didn't disappear, he shrank!_

"Wait!" Spider-Man cried desperately with a voice way more high-pitched than he would have preferred. "Please! I promise, I'm not here to create any problem!"

His sixth sense made him shiver and he avoided just in time a garbage bin that were abruptly pushed in his direction. The boy managed to keep an eye on Ant-man for a few moments but he quickly lost him. Afflicted, he asked to his artificial intelligence for help but even Karen was unable to trace the man who could have become their ally. The super-hero was now alone in the alley, guilt and shame making him sick. What if, because of him, Mr. Stark would have to wait longer before being rescued?

"Great job, Peter…" The teenager whined plaintively.

He stayed several minutes there, unmoving, and hoping that Ant-Man would decide to come back. He was mainly unable to think about what to do now. Since he had scared the fugitive, chances that the latter had alerted his colleagues were great, which meant that now Peter could give up all hopes to find the others in the city. Suddenly finding that his breath was hard to catch, he let him slide against the wall and sat down.

"Breathe, Peter," Karen advised softly, sensing its owner's distress.

"But, b-but I… I screwed it up, Karen," he stammered between sobs, panic blocking his throat. "I… I wasn't even able to talk to him. Do you… do you imagine if they knew where to find the HYDRA agents and that… and that because of me, we don't manage to find Mister Stark?"

"We'll find Mister Stark even if we don't have the help of backup," the artificial intelligence assured him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y and myself are also looking for suspect activity that could have a link with HYDRA."

"Yeah, but…"

Peter stopped, aware that whining and crying wouldn't help him finding his mentor, and he posed his head on his knees to breath deeply and calm down. He stayed in this position for a few dozens seconds, listening absentmindedly to the traffic noises, klaxons and cars, multitudes of voices that seemed to swarm in the air. The teen was getting the impression that there was another noise, like the sound of breathing, but it sounded so insignificant and distant that he wondered if he wasn't confounding this echo with the hum of a ventilation. Karen was comforting him, and it ended up being effective.

The super hero stood up, suddenly feeling the exhaustion he had temporarily forgotten. Certain his voice was now firmer, he asked, "Sorry, Karen, I lost my temper. What do we do now? Do I try to go look for them again?"

"Oh, don't worry, kid, it won't- HEY! Easy!"

Peter had startled, literally jumping in the air as he recognized Ant-Man's voice. He looked everywhere, squinting his eyes to try to spot the now tiny man. He scrutinized the ground, the walls, his arms, his shoulders, the garbage bins but even Karen didn't manage to spot him through the lenses of his mask.

"Stop moving! You're going to make me fall!"

Spider-Man forced himself to freeze despite his strong urge to keep looking around him for Scott, who sounded really close. The voice, way more confident than during the first minutes following their strange meeting, began talking again, jeering, "That's already better! Since you've interrupted my really cool and heroic reply, I'd like to end it, at least. So, as I was saying: don't move, the others are coming."

"You came back, hum… Mr. Ant-Man?"

"Actually I never left. I only… hid."

"You can become invisible?"

"Let's say it that way," the man snickered.

Peter frowned, wondering if there wasn't a problem with his sixth sense, which hadn't detected anything.

 _Or_ , he thought, _maybe Scott wasn't thinking about attacking him for now._

He liked this idea a lot.

"You know," the teenager declared, "I really don't want to fight you. I came as an ally."

Then he turned around, hearing the subtle footsteps before hearing one of the newcomers' voice.

"That's up to us to decide, Spider-Man." Steve Rogers answered calmly.

The rogue hero was accompanied by three other people, namely Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff and another man, with chocolate-colored skin, that Peter couldn't name, but found familiar.

"It is Sam Wilson," Karen indicated helpfully when noticing the young man was staring at this person in particular. "You've already met him during as Falcon, during your fight at the Leipzig-Halle airport."

Even if Peter was grateful to the artificial intelligence which had given him this piece of information, he didn't answer. He didn't need to sound crazy in front of that many super-heroes. Having freaked out in front of Ant-Man, if what he had said was true, was already awkward enough.

He greeted them shyly, forgetting his usual babbling and eloquence. However, he didn't miss the way his gesture made the adults in front of him tense.

"Hey, Captain," Ant-Man said, still invisible. "Thanks for coming. Hi, Falcon and Miss Widow!"

"Hey, Tic-Tac," Wilson retorted, "care to explain what you're doing here with Stark's minion? And why you asked us to join you in this alley?"

"We met by accident, and I heard some quite interesting things. Well, actually, maybe it wasn't that accidental because he said he was looking for us."

A small thing fell in front of Spider-Man's eyes, who stepped back in surprise, and a few moments later, Ant-Man was here, in front of him and human-sized, and was turning his back to the younger hero to salute his colleagues.

"We need your help," Peter blurted, having finally retrieved his voice. "Actually, it's mainly Mr. Stark who needs it."

It was apparently not the right thing to say, because the four newcomers tensed, showing more or less frowning expressions on their face. Sam Wilson, who Peter supposed was the less close to the billionaire, seemed wary but fortunately not scornful.

"Why do you think we would want to help Stark?" He said. "Have you forgotten what happened a few months ago?"

"I know you're currently not the best friends ever," Spider-Man retorted, "but Mr. Stark was abducted by HYDRA this morning. Someone even almost managed to destroy F.R.I.D.A.Y, his artificial intelligence. I thought that, since you were also fighting against HYDRA, maybe you'd accept to help us."

His words seemed to float in the air, levitating around them as if by magic, as their significance reached their receivers. The five adults, who were now side to side (and where blocking his path in a quite intimidating way, but Peter ignored this thought) exchanged glances, waiting for someone who would speak first. In the end, it was Black Widow who talked first.

"Are you sure it was really HYDRA?"

Peter nodded, and they looked even tenser. They gave the impression they were ready to jump on him and attack at any moment.

"We got videos," he announced.

"Tell us everything, please." Captain America asked in a calm voice but which was masking worry.

So Peter told them. He obviously didn't detail them the zoo visit, but he talked about the strange call from his mentor, the one from Dr. Cho, the arrival to the safe house, F.R.I.D.A.Y and what had happened to her. He described the files, the picture of the impostor, told them about the address and the Iron Man armor still undetectable. The five others' attitude didn't change much during his monologue, listening to him without interrupting him even to ask a question or for more details. Finally, his voice tinting with fear that the Avengers would reject his demand, he indicated that he had thought asking for their help to fight HYDRA and go to Tony Star's rescue.

Natasha Romanoff tilted slightly her head, and asked curiously:

"Why did you think we could help you? We're considered criminals."

Peter's stomach felt like it was burning. The question she had just asked resembled too much a refusal. He tried to explain, "I was thinking that there must have a good reason for you to be in New York. I saw you, a while ago, and Mr. Stark told me that he had met you too."

He voluntarily ignored the alarmed glances that Sam Wilson and Clint Barton exchanged, the latter having stayed silent since his arrival -which was beginning to freak the teenager out- and began talking again.

"After all, why would you be in the place where everyone is expecting to notice you? Maybe it was because you knew something about HYDRA? So I thought about asking you and… and also, you're the Avengers. The name alone is enough."

Silence fell in the alley, and the background noises were once more heard, invading the young super-hero's ears as he waited for a reaction. His interlocutors weren't saying anything, but looked like they were having a telepathic conversation because they were throwing each other meaningful glances. In the end, they turned to Captain America (or rather, Steve Rogers, since he wasn't wearing his signature suit) who seemed to be the leader of the little group. Spider-Man, who was feeling that the stress was going to make it difficult to talk again, begged in a trembling voice, "Please, help us save Mister Stark."

"You…" Steve articulated after a short moment of silence. "Can you give us a moment, son?"

The boy nodded, restraining himself from complaining about the nickname the renegade hero had just given him, and stepped back to give them some semblance of private space. He knew it wouldn't change anything, but what counted was the gesture. The others were aware of this, too, because they nodded at Spider-Man to thank him.

Peter listened absentmindedly the more or less subtle whispers, the louder protests, the murmurs that were proof of the fugitives' tension and preoccupation. He pretended he didn't notice the furtive glances that were thrown in his direction nor the fact that his name came back several times in the conversation.

They finally turned to face him again, and the archer spoke for the first time.

"I think you can understand we're not too keen on the idea of showing ourselves to other people." He declared seriously. "You know our identities, but how can we be sure that we can trust you, and that all of this isn't a trap?"

Peter didn't know what to answer, too surprised by what he had just heard. He couldn't simply ask them to trust him. He should have thought about that, it was quite understandable now that someone had pointed it out for him. These heroes were fugitives, had to overcome lots of trials in their past, and moreover he had fought against them a few months ago. It was obvious he didn't inspire their confidence. Spider-Man had to prove them he wasn't their foe anymore, nor a menace for their group.

Then the boy's eyes widened as a sudden idea crossed his mind. He knew this idea could be extremely stupid depending on the reaction they would have. Also, it was stupid, dangerous, and probably impulsive too. But, after all, he had told May he trusted the Avengers, and maybe it was time they knew this too. Peter inhaled deeply.

And he removed his mask.

"My name is Peter Parker," the now bare-faced super-hero announced, "and I need your help to save Mr. Stark."

000

Being a Stark definitely didn't have that many advantages. Tony was sure of it now.

But, once, he had also thought that having Peter Parker in his life was definitely a plus. And, even if he wasn't aware of it yet, this thought was going to prove its veracity very soon.

-000-

 **That's all for this chapter ! I hope you liked it !**

 **I'd love to read your opinion about this chapter. Please, don't hesitate to leave a review, even if you didn't like it ! ^^**

 **Until next time !**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there! How are you?**

 **I recently saw Ant-Man and the Wasp (which was absolutely awesome by the way!) but I wrote this chapter before actually seeing it, so you don't have to worry about spoilers. And, you probably already knew this, but this story ignores Infinity War's events, so no spoilers from this movie neither! It could however spoil a little Black Panther (but it's not like there is any name or big revelation concerning the movie so don't worry).**

 **gammathetaalpha, once again, I can't thank you enough for helping me correcting my mistakes! (Do I sound like a broken recorder? Yeah, probably!)**

 **Thanks to** **kushio3, Ikia and sonicxjones for their reviews! :D  
**

 **And let's not forget to thank Astaroth3317, Erika266, Miss Nattie Loui, RBhyat, Starrynyte04, Woah Fanfiction, babyLAY, c312698, gvivar874, popstar055, vickily, Anmol Bedi, ChrissyGleek, Katie Lupin, Silberfederling, Twinfool, poofy1024 and the black kitty for adding this story to their alert and/or favorite list! (I'm sorry if I forgot anyone ;-;)**

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 **Enjoy :)**

-000-

Being a Stark had advantages and faults. Tony could hardly tell the difference between the two.

000

Peter had the nagging feeling that he had just made one of the biggest mistakes in his life. What was currently giving him this impression? Probably the Avengers' wide open eyes. And maybe the fact that Sam Wilson and Scott Lang were gaping. The others seemed to have more self-control and had managed to keep a straighter, and more dignified face. The teenager still had managed to break the three most famous Avengers' neutral expressions, namely Captain America, Hawkeye and Black Widow. He knew it was an exploit that few people had managed to accomplish.

Spider-Man felt like the silence that followed his words lasted for an eternity, yet he was fully aware than only a couple of seconds had lapsed before Lang exclaimed, "Goodness, you're a kid!"

"Please," Peter said, getting frustrated, "can we forget comments about my age for two minutes?"

It seemed to make Steve Roger react, because he got out of his unusual silence. His expression became friendlier.

"Sorry, um… Peter," he answered. "We were surprised. But, for my part…"

The rogue hero stopped to go through his pockets, and took out a mobile phone that looked quite old. He gave it to the boy, who took it with caution, and resumed his talking: "I promised Tony that, if one day he needed my help, I would be there. I just hope you'll understand I don't want to impose my decision upon the others if they don't want to. It's their choice."

He reached out to put his hand on Peter's shoulder. The latter had yet to realize what the adult had just said. The boy ended up looking up, feeling a huge smile stretching on his face.

"Thanks, Captain. You can't imagine how important it is to me," he announced.

"Call me Steve, okay?"

Steve shook his head, and his sympathetic face became more serious. He pronounced with difficulty, "I'm sorry for everything that happened," as if the words pained him.

"You should rather say this to Tony when we'll see him again," Romanoff piped, approaching the two men. "You can count on me too, Peter. My name's Natasha, but you probably already knew it. Sorry for the cold welcome."

"Thank you, Mi- I mean, Natasha. And, it's okay, you know. Your reaction was actually quite understandable.

Peter went silent for a few moments, sparing a sorry glance at the three other people. He was surprised but relieved to notice that they also seemed less tense, as if their attitude was copying the Captain's. Clint Barton sighed, faking annoyance.

"Well, if the two of you are decided, I can't exactly say no now, right?"

"Stop it, Barton, it's obvious you wanna help too. The kid made you completely sappy," Wilson snickered.

"Sam, I think you should shut-"

"Calm down, birdbrains," Natasha intervened, smirking. "Wilson, Lang, are you going to join us?"

Scott smiled at Peter, who smiled back, embarrassed. Steve's hand was still on his shoulder, and the teen had to concentrate and remember to breathe, because seriously Captain America's hand was on his shoulder and he had told Spider-Man to call him Steve and he was going to say sorry to Mister Stark and help save him and Peter wanted to cry tears of joy and-

"It's always a pleasure to give a hand to Captain America," Ant-Man affirmed, looking like he was biting back a laugh as he saw Spider-Man's expression. "And, after all, we exoskeleton super-heroes got to support one another, right?"

Wilson didn't say a word but approached Peter, who tensed as he remembered their fight at the airport. The man narrowed his eyes, before asking, "Do you plan on gluing me to the ground with your webs?"

Spider-Man blinked owlishly.

"Umm, no sir," he articulated, confused.

"We're good then!"

"Oh, did Sam get sappy because of a kid?" Barton snickered.

"Let's be a little more serious, gentlemen," Steve scolded gently. "We should split into two groups. We'd be too obvious if we were to go to the address Dr. Cho gave us all at once."

"Steve is right," Natasha agreed, "two groups of three people will be more discreet. Wilson, Barton, you're coming with me. We'll go back to the safe house to take some equipment."

"Which means we're teaming up with Captain America," Scott summed up. "Isn't that cool, Spider-Man?"

Peter nodded, grateful that the man was so nice with him. He indicated, "I think we should go. Mr. Rhodes went to the compound, he should be back soon. Maybe we'll have more information when we get to the base."

"Alright then," Rogers answered. "Let's go. Natasha, Sam, Clint, you'll join us as soon as possible?"

Clint smiled. "Yes, Captain. See you later, Spider-Man."

"See you later, Sir."

He was definitely having a hard time refraining himself from jumping in excitement. The archer waved.

"Call me Clint. Sorry again for earlier."

"No problem, Clint." Peter grinned.

The teenager found himself alone with Ant-Man and Captain America a couple of seconds later. He smiled awkwardly.

"Should we go?" He asked. "It's not far from here, it should take about fifteen minutes if we walk fast."

"We're following you, Peter," Steve confirmed.

"I just need to change. I'd like to avoid walking around in my suit, it would draw attention to you."

Once it was done, the three of them began walking. The two outlaws had slipped on sunglasses and caps, and despite their simplicity the disguises seemed to fulfill their purpose. The streets were almost deserted anyway. The boy didn't dare to say anything, so it was Lang who resumed talking.

"Tell me, Cap-uh, Steve, far be it from me to criticize you, but what was it that changed your mind? One moment you were ready to attack or flee and the following minute your attitude completely changed."

"I could ask you the same thing, Scott," Steve retorted with a hint of a smile. "You call us to warn us you just met Spider-Man and you may be in trouble, and thirty seconds later you ask us to go meet him because he asked."

Lang glanced at Peter, who felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment once again. Ant-Man had probably change his mind when he had seen the younger hero panicking. Which was everything but glorious. But the man only winked before explaining, "I understood midway he was sincere."

The blond nodded. "At first," he went on, answering the initial question, "I thought that Spider-Man had decided to go after us to arrest us. Our group has been on edge since we began hiding. We trust Scott, but we didn't know if we could trust you too. Please don't take this as an offense, Peter."

"None taken," Peter reassured him.

"And yet, you trusted us enough to reveal your identity, because you wanted to help Stark. I think it surprised everyone, and.. I felt a bit guilty for the way we acted. By the way, how did you meet Tony?"

The teenager stayed silent during a few seconds, waiting to walk past a woman and her stroller, before explaining, "He went to my home to see me, after school, to ask me... well, you know the rest."

A strange expression appeared on Steve's face, and the boy hastened to add in a low voice, "Before you say something about the fact that Mr. Stark took a teenager to Germany… I was already Spider-Man before, even if it was for a very short time. I had made my costume myself, and it was really bad quality compared to the one I have now. Mr. Stark offered me a new suit, with a lot of features, and he even helps me to train. He truly helped me a lot. If he hadn't been there for me, I don't think I'd be here today."

"Maybe I was too quick to judge," the hero admitted. "I'm sorry."

"But," Scott intervened curiously, "how did you become Spider-Man then? I thought it was thanks to Stark."

"I got bitten by a radioactive spider. My DNA mutated."

The same grimaces crossed the two adults' faces, and the rest of the journey was silent.

000

The Commander had to get out of the room for a few minutes so he could calm down. It didn't sound good for Tony, who was still not able to spot the door. He hadn't even tried to loosen his bonds, because they were way too tight. Trying would have only resulted in hurting him more than he already was.

Corll came back soon after, his attitude icier than ever and once again accompanied by to of his minions.

"Let's get to the serious matter," he grumbled.

The engineer didn't answer, waiting for the other man to continue. That's what the foe did.

"I think you're aware that HYDRA made a point to make this world better. To do so, we need to get back some… elements, that rightfully belong to us and that were taken away."

Ronny hadn't even been talking for five seconds and Tony had already understood what the other was talking about. He rolled his eyes.

"Which means, Stark, that I want you to tell me where to find the Avengers. I also want any detail that could have a link, directly or indirectly, with them."

Oh, what a surprise. The mechanic smirked, before mocking, "Seriously? I think you got the wrong person to question, Commander. Did you, by any chance, miss the events of these past months?"

"I perfectly know what happened between Rogers and you," Ronald crooned, in a sickening sweet voice. "That's why I consider you as the best person to provide us answers. Don't you seek justice, after all?"

"If I hadn't been attacked, kidnapped, and tied to this chair, I might have accorded a few nanoseconds of thought to this proposition."

It was a complete lie, but his foes didn't need to know this.

"Aren't you fed up with being always the one to blame?"

"Ronny, stop playing on my soft heart, you're going to make me cry."

Corll's right eye twitched, a sign of obvious annoyance.

"If you show some cooperation, I'm certain we'll manage to find you a more comfortable room."

"Of course, Ronny. But, come on, did you really imagine I had the least idea about their location? I don't have any news from them, and it's probably better this way. Believe me, if you try to target them, they'll make you bite the dust."

"Is that a threat?"

"A warning," Tony corrected.

"Don't think for even one second that I didn't think about how to make you talk if you refused to do it genuinely."

"Look at me, I'm so scared. I'm shaking like a leaf."

"I'm going to give you another chance, Stark. Don't waste it. Where are the Avengers?"

One guard approached the inventor, doing his best to look menacing. Tony rose an eyebrow, looking at him, to show he wasn't exactly intimidated, and retorted, "Sorry, Chief, but that's a trick question you're asking me. I have no idea. But I have one question for you, too. How did you manage to get by my artificial intelligence? I'm quite upset about that."

"I'm afraid that'll stay a secret, Stark." Ronald grinned, visibly satisfied that he had outsmarted the genius.

"Wakandan technology, right?"

A new twitching confirmed his theory, and the Commander frowned. Tony sighed.

"I really have to update F.R.I.D.A.Y's system."

"Stark, I think I asked you a question."

"And I think I gave you my answer, Captain."

The mechanic received a blow to the stomach, and he tried vainly to move his arms to his abdomen to protect to. Breathless, he tried to refrain from groaning in pain.

"My patience is limited, so don't be too cheeky or you'll regret it. You're not in a favourable position.

"No, really? I didn't even realize that!"

The guard hit him once again. Tony could't hold back a whimper as he felt one of his ribs crack.

"We tried to lure them," Corll began again, hissing in disdain. "One of our suppliers began selling powerful weapons to mere criminals to create some chaos, but we didn't get any result. We thus decided to take drastic action. With only a few gadgets from Wakanda, that wasn't that hard."

The mechanic had the elusive vision of Steve at the supermarket, followed by a suit becoming ashes.

"You also deactivated my armor with your so-called gadgets," he understood.

"How perceptive you are," his foe mocked. "I expected nothing less from you. Unfortunately for you, we're not here to test your intelligence."

"Not that I really needed to test it."

"Goodness, silence him! He's unbearable!"

After having punched the billionaire another time for good measure, one of the HYDRA agents left the room to come back soon after, with a piece of cloth in his hand, using it to gag the prisoner.

Tony puffed loudly, annoyed. The Commander scrutinized him with a smile that wasn't exactly reassuring, and ordered his subordinates, "I want one of you to get Stark away from this chair and drop him on the ground, it'll be easier that way. The other'll have to warn the intervention unit to get to work. Go catch that Spider-Man."

As the two guards obeyed, Tony felt dread filling his stomach. But he wasn't scared for himself. Ronald snickered.

"We'll make you confess everything you know, Tony. If you're not cooperative enough, then I'm certain our favorite spider will manage to make you more talkative. Am I wrong?"

000

"Peter? That's a laundromat."

The teenager turned to Scott, with a hint of a smile, as he answered, "That's exactly what I thought when I first came here. Come in."

He guided his two companions to the back shop, where Doctor Cho was waiting for them. Her face brightened when she noticed the newcomers.

"It's nice to see you again, Steve. And nice to meet you, Mr. Lang," she greeted. "I'm Dr. Cho, but you can just call me Helen."

"Hi, Helen," the blond hero greeted back as Scott shook her hand, looking slightly embarrassed. "Natasha, Clint and Sam should be arriving soon."

"I can't thank you enough for coming. Thank you a lot for your help, Peter."

The boy smiled sheepishly, and the doctor guided them to the underground room where they had reconnected F.R.I.D.A.Y. Pepper and Colonel Rhodes, still in his armor, were there and were talking rapidly.

"-nothing, Pepper," they heard him say. "The only things I found were the remains of Tony's homemade traps. There was nothing else, not even outside."

The billionaire's two friends noticed the newcomers and turned towards them. If they tensed at the sight of Rogers, they didn't let any other mark of discomfort appear in their attitude and greeted the group before summarizing the situation.

Stark's hidden cameras had already told them everything, even a thorough search of the compound didn't permit another discovery.

"We're back to square one," Rhodes concluded.

"Peter told us about an address," Scott intervened, which brought attention on him. "Which could have been a sort of trap."

"That's right," Pepper confirmed. "Tony sent his armor there, but we lost all contact with it."

"Couldn't we go and have a look ourselves?"

Even though Peter thought Ant-Man's idea was utterly logical, it provoked a few grimaces. Pepper voiced, probably confirming what everyone was thinking about, "It'll probably be dangerous. We don't know what could be waiting for us there."

"But it was the same situation with the compound," the Colonel reminded. "If we avoid everything that's dangerous or risky, we won't be able to progress. Lang's right, it's worth the try."

"We could go in a group," Peter suggested, ideas whirling in his mind. "If we think about the fact that there could be the armor or HYDRA agents, it would be for the best. But we can't go there with the intention to fight, as you did for the compound, Mr. Rhodes. We should rather act discreet to get a maximum amount of information, because it's possibly our last chance to get some. If we were to fail, we wouldn't have any trail left and it would make everything harder. Three people would be the ideal number. Oh, and the persons that go will have to have equipment able to record everything so the others can know what's happening too in real time."

The boy stopped talking, feeling the adults' gazes on him. Rhodes smirked.

"Come on, Mini-Stark," he encouraged the teenager. "Tell us who you are thinking about."

"Hum," Peter answered unintelligibly as he tried to ignore the nickname that was making his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Well, Mr. Barton, Miss Romanoff and myself. Because, if I remember correctly, Hawkeye and Black Widow are really skilled at being discrete. Also, with my suit, I can record everything and I'll also be able to neutralize agents without hurting them so they can be interrogated. Actually, we could also count on Ant-Man because he's able to shrink. But four people may be too much, and it won't be necessarily useful. We could always use a back-up team instead."

"That's a good strategy," Steve approved, which made the teenager blush even more. "I don't know what your opinion is on this plan, but I think we could try what Peter proposed. Clint and Natasha will surely agree to participate, so we just need them to get there."

"Do you know how long they should take to arrive?" Pepper asked.

"I'd say about three quarters of an hour."

"Then you should get some rest meanwhile," Helen advised. "I'll warn you if something happens. There are rest areas, you can go and sit down if you want to."

She designated an area with couches and chairs, but Peter's attention was quickly directed towards the Colonel, who approached him while getting out of his armor. His artificial legs where whirring softly and the boy resisted the urge to examine them for too long.

"Hi, sir." he greeted.

"Hey, Peter," Rhodes answered. "Didn't I already told you you could call me James? Or, if you prefer to imitate Tony, Rhodey. However I'd really appreciate you avoid calling me 'Honey Bear". That would be greatly embarrassing."

"Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Don't call me Sir, alright?"

"Understood, Colonel."

Rhodes sighed loudly. "Exactly what I was saying. A true Mini-Stark. But, more seriously, how are you?"

"I'm fine," the teenager said, not really sure about whether he was telling James this to reassure him or if he was trying to convince himself. "I mean, I just met the Avengers, which was really cool, and they're super nice, but… I'm still worried for Mr. Stark.

"Me too. He always manages to get into trouble. What's also worrying me is the fact that HYDRA got their hands on Wakandan technology, which could mean there's another weapons dealer in Wakanda."

Peter didn't know what to answer, too busy thinking about what the Colonel had just said. He hadn't thought about this, and, clearly, it was one more problem. The sight of his destroyed suit came back into his mind.

"Go get some rest," James ordered softly. "You look exhausted, and we need a Spider-Man in top form for the mission."

"Okay, Si- James."

"Nice catch up."

The boy went to the corner Helen had showed, where he found Scott sitting on one of the couches. The latter waved at Peter, beckoning him to sit down at his side.

"Where are the others?" Peter asked once he was comfortably installed on the couch.

"I'm not sure. I think Captain went to talk with the doctor and Ms. Potts. Wanna try to sleep?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to," the young man admitted. "By the way, about what happened earlier, when I thought you had left…"

He trailed his sentence, not daring to end it, but the adult seemed to immediately understand what he was talking about, and reassured him.

"We're all allowed to panic from time to time. It's not because you're a superhero that you can't get scared. The most important thing to do is to not let fear paralyze you and prevent you from moving forward. Wow, don't you think I just sounded like Captain America right now? I think I'm spending too much time with him. Not that I'm saying he's annoying."

The teenager smiled, greatly enjoying Scott's babbling.

"Oh, I got an idea! If you don't want to sleep, would you like me to tell you some anecdotes? Let me tell you that, when you're living with THE Avengers, you learn a lot of things!"

Lang started his long tale, and Peter listened attentively, happy to be able to concentrate on something else other than the current situation. Scott began telling him how he had become Ant-Man, and talked in detail about his daughter Cassie. He then mentioned how he had gotten stuck in the quantum realm, the world of infinitely small and took the care to explain in detail how scared he had been, and how the thought of this strange world was still making him feel uneasy. It was as if the adult tried to reaffirm what he had said about fear earlier (that was probably the case).

He also explained how he had met the Avengers and what had happened after the fight in Germany. The fugitives hadn't only been hiding, they had decided to chase after HYDRA agents all around the world.

"We didn't find a lot of them," he explained, looking contrite. "But it did lessen the number of agents."

"What about Mr. Rogers' friend? Is he alright?"

"He's safe," Scott smiled.

Understanding he wouldn't get any more detail, Peter didn't attempt to insist and easily steered the conversation away, asking his interlocutor how it was to live with the Avengers. Scott's eyes brightened.

"In their daily life, they're actually quite normal people. That's weird, because they're superheroes, right? But they all have their habits, which is really funny, and- Ah, look, here they are."

The teenager followed the other's gaze and noticed Falcon, Hawkeye and Black Widow, still in their normal attire, coming into the immense underground basement and greeting Rhodes.

"Sam still feels guilty for the Colonel's accident," Scott indicated in a low voice, all trace of humor disappearing. He considers it's because of him that it happened."

"But there were several major factors to take into account, right?"

"It's often easier to blame someone. Sometimes, we blame ourselves."

They silently observed Rhodes, who had probably felt Wilson's discomfort, greeting him and discussing warmly with him.

"It feels weird," Peter commented. "When we look at them… it's like nothing ever happened."

"You're right. I think that everyone mainly try to temporarily put the past events aside so they can concentrate on the current mission. I can't say I really know Stark, but it means that, despite the conflicts there were, people care for him. It's a good sign, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that's true. But that'll be strange once everything's over, because nobody will know how to act."

"Exactly! How do you think Stark'll react?"

"I have no idea. But he's not going to arrest you, if that's what you're scared of."

"That's not what I was saying," Ant-Man smiled. "You already made that point clear, didn't you?"

"Did I?"

They were interrupted by Clint, who approached them. He had sunglasses on his nose, which he removed with a hand when he got near them. He was also carrying a stuffed backpack on his shoulders.

"Hi again," Barton saluted. "Steve told me about the plan. You're going to team up with Romanoff and me, Spider-Man?"

"Yes, Sir. So you already know everything?"

"Clint, not Sir."

"Oops," Peter said, faking being sorry.

Clint snorted.

"In general, yes, but not specifically the details yet." He indicated, "We'll probably have a short meeting, so we can make things clear for everyone, but it'll probably be fast. We don't have enough time to keep bracing ourselves for the action and wait for it to come to us."

The archer was right. The gathering was extremely quick, and was only done to check everyone agreed with the plan they had to follow. About half an hour later, Clint, Natasha and Peter were equipped with their weapons (and in his suit for the latter) and driving to the warehouses. They were followed by another vehicle, in which were Scott and Steve. Falcon would patrol their surroundings to spot potential suspect activity.

They arrived at their destination soon after, and took the care to hide themselves at a reasonable distance from their target.

"Karen, do you detect cameras?" Peter asked to nobody, which elicited curious glances from his teammates.

"Yes, there are twelve. Four of them are located outside the building," the artificial intelligence answered quickly by connecting to the car's radio, thus letting the two spies hear her explanation. "They are old models, so I can hack into them. Would you like me to do so?"

"That would be perfect," Natasha nodded, having quickly understood what exactly Karen was. "You have your own artificial intelligence, Peter?"

The boy nodded. "Mr. Stark had integrated it into my suit."

Once Karen had told them she had hijacked the images recorded by the security cameras, the three got out of their car and approached their objective gingerly. The warehouse looked like it had been abandoned for quite a long time. The paint was faded, worn down by years of fierce winds, rain and tempests. Weeds had managed to get through the tar, and had literally invaded the surroundings. The only evidence that proved a recent activity there was that said weed had been flattened before the large doors of the building.

"There's an aperture through the roof," Falcon announced through their radio. "But be careful, there are people inside. I see three thermal signatures, all gathered around something. I can't identify it."

"Got it, thanks, Sam." Clint answered in a low voice.

They got near the walls slowly but didn't pay more attention to the cameras they noticed, knowing Karen had taken care of them for the team. Natasha murmured to Peter, "Go, Spider-Man. Go to the roof, but don't get inside, we'll join you as quickly as we can."

Peter obeyed silently and easily climbed the walls. He immediately spotted the entrance Wilson had talked about. It was actually more of a hole than a real entrance; one of the zinc-plated sheets that the roof was composed of had probably been teared away by a violent tempest, and nobody had cared enough to replace it. Spider-Man glanced inside warily. He distinguished three silhouettes, and, as Sam had said, they were gathered around a fourth inanimate and humanoid form. He immediately recognized what it was.

"There's the armor," the teenager whispered for his teammates to hear. "That's what these three people are looking at. I think.. They're trying to open it."

Clint and Natasha joined him a few seconds later, and looked through the hole too, while being cautious not to create a shadow on the ground.

They began communicating by making signs, something they had quickly taught the teenager so he wouldn't feel too lost when they did so, and slipped without a noise inside. Nobody noticed them. Peter scrutinized the armor, and spotted an unusual element, that didn't belong to the billionaire's armor. He showed it to the two spies. It was a sort of black disk, stuck on the metallic frame's abdomen.

"That's probably the thing that deactivated the armor," Steve declared, who was looking at the scene from Peter's lenses that recorded everything. "F.R.I.D.A.Y is trying to analyse it, and it looks like Wakandan technology."

But Captain America quickly went silent, because one of the men trying to pry the armor open began talking to the two others.

"Y'all got the instructions?"

"Yeah," another answered with a sigh. "The Commander wants us to go to Queens."

"I didn't even understood why we had to do this."

"I heard that it was to make Stark speak. He's fond of that scrawny spider and, currently, he's not very talkative. Someone said he's getting on Corll's nerves."

Peter tensed, suddenly extremely more attentive to what they were saying. He felt his two teammates do the same at his sides.

"But how are we supposed to catch an almost flying guy, in a red suit, and whose identity is unknown by everyone?"

"That," the third groaned, "isn't Corll's problem. It's up to us and the rest of the team to do what we can."

Natasha gently tapped Peter's shoulder, who turned around to look at her, and motioned him to get outside. The team left the building, carefully resting on the roof. The boy asked soflty, "They were talking about me, weren't they?"

"I don't know about you, kid, but I don't know a lot of red spiders flying around in Queens," Clint scoffed. "But at least we got something."

"The thing is," the female spy intervened, "that now they're really after Spider-Man. It's not a bait for Stark anymore."

The teenager stayed silent for a moment, musing, and an idea crossed his mind.

"I got an idea, I think it could work."

"We're not letting you get yourself captured by these goons, Peter," Scott immediately protested in the radio.

"No, I wasn't thinking about this," the young hero defended himself. "I only wanted to give them one of my gadgets, like one of my web shooters. If I put a tracer inside and abandon it near them, they might take it to their base, possibly where Mr. Stark is, to examine it and try to get more info about Spider-Man. Even if it's not the right base, it's always one more HYDRA safe house to destroy."

"Well," Falcon voiced, "You're definitely full of good ideas, kid."

"And how do you plan on doing that, Peter?" Pepper asked.

"I could get noticed on purpose inside. I would act like I was looking for Iron Man's armor, then try to run away and make something fall in the heat of the moment."

"Meanwhile," Clint added, "We could also hide tracers in their vehicles. But if the least thing goes out of control and becomes a risk for your security, Spider-Man, we get out of our hiding spot and attack, is that clear? Is everyone okay with this?"

If some were at first reluctant, aware and worried of the danger this idea represented for the teenager, they all ended up agreeing to the plan, after having been reassured multiple times by the two spies that they would intervene if something were to go wrong. Natasha cleaned conscientiously the web shooter Peter gave her, erasing all traces that could give away a hint about Spider-Man's identity, and gave it back to the boy.

Peter thus entered the warehouse once again, his heart racing. He moved silently, walking on the roof head upside down, and positioned himself just above the armor. He shot a web on it to attract the strangers' attention to him, and pulled slightly to test the object's weight.

He certainly didn't expect the whole armor to come to him. Surprised by its lightness, or maybe by his own strength he had miscalculated, he almost let the Stark suit fall back to the ground. The teenager caught it by the ankle, and exclaimed, "Sorry, guys, I don't think this belongs to you! I'm confiscating it!"

The boy ignored the surprised shouts of the three HYDRA agents and dashed towards the still closed doors, preferring to avoid getting outside by the roof, which would have compromised Clint and Natasha's safety. His sixth sense provoked a shiver in his spine, and an unpleasant tingling in his neck, so he swung to his left and dodged flying bullets that were shot at him. Peter took advantage of this movement to let go of his bait, which fell to the ground almost inaudibly. Someone shouted, "Get him!", but the words were quickly muffled by the brouhaha of shooting guns. Spider-Man avoided all the hits easily.

Regaining momentum, he swung towards the exit and gave the doors a powerful kick, ejecting them to the ground. With the armor still in his arms, he glanced behind him and shot a web at the three men trying to chase after him. The projectile reached its target and webbed them together. After having landed smoothly on the ground, Peter resumed running and quickly moved away from the warehouse, to find soon after the vehicle Scott and Steve were in.

"Surprise! Look at what I got!" Peter exclaimed, breathless but overjoyed.

He could still feel his muscles shake because of the adrenaline, and despite his urge to go back with Black Widow and Hawkeye in case they needed his help, he sat in the back of the car, posing the armor at his side. The two adults turned around to look at him, gazing at the boy and his trophy.

"I thought you only had to leave a bait and create a diversion?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, me too," Peter admitted, "but it just… happened. The armor was way lighter than I believed it to be, so I took it with me."

"You did good," Steve declared softly with a smile. "It's another advantage for us, as well as one less problem. Good job. Clint, Natasha, is everything alright for you?"

"Perfectly!" the archer's voice resonated through the radio. "We hid tracers on all of their vehicles, and we saw the guys take the web shooters. Mission accomplished!"

"We're going back to the safe house with Peter. Are you following us?"

"We're already in the car, we're on our way!"

The drive was almost entirely silent, and after doing a high-five with Scott, the teenager concentrated on trying to remove the strange disk from the armor. But, even if he tried to pull strongly on it, he didn't manage to do so. Peter didn't dare to put all his strength on the armor, fearing he would damage it. Since Captain America was driving, Ant-Man turned to Peter and tried to have a look at the device but looked as lost as Peter about how to remove it.

"We'll see that when we get to the base," he ended up declaring, confused.

Steve parked the vehicle in the laundromat's backyard, so they wouldn't get too much attention from curious bystanders. He asked to carry the armor, and even if it was quite a simple question, Spider-Man understood by observing the blond's expression that the latter was trying to help as much as possible, especially if it concerned his mentor, even if it was only carrying armor for a few minutes. Peter did it with a smile.

The fact that they had retrieved the armor made more than one person happy. The most relieved were visibly James and Pepper, and the latter hugged tightly the teenager, thanking him warmly.

They all gathered in the room F.R.I.D.A.Y was installed in, room that now seemed a lot smaller. The adults were discussing together, waiting anxiously for the artificial intelligence to give them news of the tracers.

"The sprint you made was not too bad, you know, Spider-Kid." Someone voiced behind him.

Peter turned around, and came face-to-face with Wilson. His mechanical wings were folded, but the man was still wearing his equipment.

"It was." Falcon retorted with a smirk.

"I already feel relieved then."

"I'm actually mainly happy that you didn't ground me with your webs again, or that you didn't shoot a sticky web in my face."

"Come on, I only did it once!" The teenager protested, groaning.

"Hm. Maybe I'll be able to trust you then. Moreover, Tic-Tac seems to like you.

"Tic-tac?"

"Ant-Man," Wilson explained as he mimicked a shrinking with his fingers. "But, actually, he's not the only one. I think everyone adopted you. You've poured some love potion in our drinks when we weren't looking, right? I knew you were a sly little brat."

Peter felt his lips stretch in a smile, understanding with a certain happiness that the man was trying to sympathize with him. But he didn't have the time to retort anything, because F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice suddenly resonated through the air, and cut short any discussion in the room.

"The tracers are moving."

Everyone's attention was directed to the holographic screen, which represented a point blinking and moving out of New York. Helen declared, "I guess it's up to us now."

"Let's hope it's the base Tony is kept in," Pepper added.

Peter could only hope that, too.

-000-

 **That's all for this chapter! How was it?**

 **I'd love to read your reviews and know your opinion about this chapter, anyway I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter!**

 **See you soon!**


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